Stay
by musiksnob
Summary: Clare is 26, single and a workaholic editor at a Toronto newspaper. When her ex-boyfriend Eli unexpectedly shows up at her sister's funeral, Clare mistakenly lets him back into her life for just one night. But the consequences of their reunion force Clare to make some decisions about her life, including whether she wants to share it with the guy who once broke her heart. Eclare.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Degrassi Tumblr: musiksnob / New personal Tumblr: musiksnobbery ~ Follow me for book recommendations/music/TV/and embarrassing anonymous advice.**

**Here we are again. This is the beginning of "Stay," my new story, which will definitely be my longest yet. It takes place a few years in the future, when Clare is 26 years old. **

**I feel that I must warn you in advance that this fic will contain the world's biggest Degrassi fanfiction cliché. I am hoping that since you have possibly read my other 46 stories (or at least the good ones), that you will trust me to do a good job with it and continue reading. We've got a few chapters before we get there, but it'll be pretty clear once it happens.**

**Also, I appreciate your continued support, and hope that you will stick with me through this fic and let me know what you think of it. We've got approximately 20 chapters to go after this one, and I am really going to need you. I promised myself I would never abandon a fic, and I have always kept that promise, so if you're with me, I think this might turn out to be one of my best stories. I really enjoy writing future Clare.**

**This is the shortest chapter I've written in a long time but this is one of the longer author notes so I'll just mention that while I won't be titling the chapters with songs, I'll post an epigraph at the beginning of each chapter with a quote from one of my favorite female musicians. Hope you enjoy them!**

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Chapter 1

"**And I thought I'd live forever but now I'm not so sure." – Stay by Lisa Loeb**

"Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also; the body they may kill; God's truth abideth still; his kingdom is forever." The choir sang _A Mighty Fortress is Our God_ with a thunderous finish, drowning out the meek warbles of the congregation. My mother reached for yet another tissue, dabbing at her swollen eyes. Glen held her hand tightly in his, as she slumped against his shoulder.

It was unusual for the choir to sing at a funeral service, but since Mom had been a member for the past twenty years, the others had decided to don their robes and support her, especially considering the circumstances. Our church, like many others, had seen a lot of funerals over the past few years, as our aging congregation suffered the ravages of cancer, dementia and general old age. This was the first service for a person under the age of 60 that I could remember in ages.

I hated to come to services to find out that poor Mrs. Chestwick had succumbed to a stroke or that Mr. Johnson, the man who had led the acolytes – including me when I was a preteen – for nearly 40 years, had a heart attack. It made me sad to look through the church at the increasingly empty pews. The younger members of our congregation – the people who'd attended Sunday School and Youth Group with me for years – had mostly either moved away or had stopped attending except for Christmas and Easter.

I had to admit that though I still made an effort to attend, there were plenty of Sundays where I had so much work to catch up on that it was easy to skip. I'd forced myself to commit to attending once a month, but much to my mother's chagrin, sometimes even that didn't happen. Glen and Jake had become quite lapsed in their churchgoing after Jake's Mom had left them, and even marriage to my mother couldn't get them here for anything other than holidays and weddings and funerals. I thought of all the weeks my mother sat alone in her pew, and it made me feel even worse to realize that wasn't going to change.

The most religious person in the family had always been Darcy. And now, Darcy was gone.

Although frankly, Darcy had been gone for a very long time. This just made it all the more final.

Pastor Daniels stepped up to the pulpit to give the eulogy. My mother had asked me if I would want to deliver the eulogy for my sister, seeing as I was the writer of the family. But I had declined, claiming that I would be too upset to speak at the funeral. She had given me a sympathetic hug and told me that she felt the same way, and that she would ask Manny Santos – an old friend of Darcy's. I had seen Manny sitting in the back of the church in a stunning black dress and dark sunglasses, but she too had elected not to participate. Her rationale was that she was an actress, not a writer, and she would not be able to do Darcy justice – plus with the success of her new movie she would just be a distraction.

I was fairly certain than Manny's reasons were just excuses to avoid stating the truth – that Darcy had left for Kenya 12 years ago, and she had never come back. Manny knew her as a high school student, and I knew her from when I was a little girl. But neither of us knew her now and how could you write a eulogy for someone you didn't even know?

It was clear that Pastor Daniels didn't quite have the answer to that question either, though he'd certainly had more experience in faking his way through it. "It is always a somber event to preside over a funeral, but when the deceased is merely thirty years old, it is especially difficult." He cleared his throat. "Darcy Grace Edwards was a treasured member of this congregation. I did not have the privilege of baptizing her myself, but Pastor Bauer performed that sacrament here in this church nearly thirty years ago to this day, and I was Darcy's instructor as she made her first communion and affirmed her faith through the ritual of confirmation. I have known Darcy to be a generous, thoughtful woman, who dedicated her life to the church and its teachings."

Did he really know that? For all I knew, Darcy had given up her missionary and charitable work and spent her days running after wildebeasts in the Masai Mara or moved to Mombasa to work as a prostitute to support her heroin addiction. I couldn't even remember the last time I had spoken to my sister on the phone – certainly not since university – and the crackling connection meant we spent more time asking if we could be heard than catching up.

"In fact, it is no surprise to me that Darcy's untimely death was the result of her selfless nature. While working with impoverished, terminally ill patients in a village outside of Kisumu, she caught Yellow Fever. Rather than returning to the city to seek treatment she continued her mission, ministering to the indigenous population, despite her failing health."

I snorted out loud at that statement. Jake grabbed my arm, digging his dull fingernails into my skin to get me to control myself. But it was ridiculous. Darcy wasn't being selfless. She was being stupid, and Pastor Daniels had clearly ignored this fact in his quest to portray her as a Christian martyr. Yellow fever was transmissible by mosquitoes, not humans, and there was a vaccine that would have protected Darcy, had she remembered that her initial vaccine was only good for ten years.

So it wasn't Darcy's selflessness that killed her. It was her complete and utter inability to return home to Canada even once in the past twelve years. Not to update her vaccines or seek proper treatment once she was infected. Not for twelve different Christmases, or my high school or university graduations, or Mom and Glen's wedding, or even my grandmother's funeral. That was the final straw for me, and at that point, I'd ceased trying to contact her via email or Skype.

It wasn't like I'd gotten much of a response before that.

I tried to pay attention as Pastor read a laundry list of Darcy's accolades and achievements: she'd brought 126 wells to different rural villages around Kenya and had founded a Christian church in a community that was predominantly Muslim, in addition to the food, clothing, books and medicinal donations she had procured over the years. I found myself recounting Darcy's other achievements:

High School Dropout. False accuser of perfectly nice media immersion teacher. Lousy sister.

I knew that listening to the speech would only made me more annoyed, so I tried to discreetly look around. Jake had let go of my arm and was holding hands with his wife, Meghan, on his right. They both looked exhausted, and I wondered if attending this funeral and leaving their baby Devin with Meghan's mother was a bit of a relief to them. They also looked rather bored, which I supposed wasn't a surprise. Jake hadn't seen his other stepsister since he was eight years old, and Meghan had obviously never met Darcy.

It was hard to grieve for someone you didn't know at all.

It was harder to grieve for someone you once knew who had left you.

My Dad was across the aisle from us, and his sorrow looked genuine. He had never been a crier, but his eyes looked hollow, haunted. Irene sat next to him, looking even more bored than Jake and Meghan, and I could see that her oldest daughter Cassie was holding a hymnal open on her lap so that she could send text messages during the service.

I couldn't look behind me without it being obvious that I wasn't paying attention but I had noted that when we processed up the aisle, the church had seemed fairly empty. There was a smattering of old friends, neighbors and my parents' coworkers, aunts and uncles and cousins, a handful of fellow parishioners.

I remembered the last memorial service I had attended for a young person, when Owen Milligan had been killed by a drunk driver on his way home from prom. I hadn't known him well – he was a friend of a friend of a friend at best – but Eli had grown to like his younger brother Tristan through working with him on the school play and had asked me to attend with him, joking that otherwise lightning would strike him as soon as he walked into the church if I wasn't with him. The place was standing room only, and that was in a large Catholic cathedral that could fit three copies of my church inside of it easily.

I frowned, not sure if I was more upset remembering the death of a much beloved hockey player from my school, the fact that Darcy had so few people left who remembered her, or just…Eli. My phone buzzed in my purse next to me, and I was tempted to see if someone from work needed me so I could sneak out, but my mother shot me her patented death glare, so I folded my hands in my lap and forced myself to focus on Pastor Daniels once again.

"Despite the many wonderful things Darcy accomplished during her life on earth, there is always a tragedy of a life cut short: the things she missed out on. Marriage and motherhood, in particular."

With that, I burst into hysterical laughter. Marriage and motherhood? Darcy had spent twelve years running away from her family. Her ultimate goal wasn't to become a wife and mother. It was to run away from her past. It was to put herself above all others – no matter how noble her occupation as professional saint made her seem.

It was probably the only thing I still admired about my sister.

I knew I wasn't the first person to inappropriately laugh at a funeral, but with the looks I was getting – even from Pastor Dan – you would have thought I was. Jake's renewed grip on my arm would certainly leave a bruise tomorrow. "Stop it," he hissed. "I know you're upset but you're making this harder on Helen."

I bit my lip as hard as I could, but my shoulders still heaved in silent laughter. Pastor Dan regained his composure and finished his eulogy with a reminder that Darcy would have eternal life, thanks be to God. He began the litany and the churchgoers in the audience filled in the responses.

Despite this, I still felt all eyes on me, as I gasped for air, willing myself to calm down. These were the same pitying looks I had received yesterday at the funeral home, when aunts and family friends from across Ontario wondered if I had brought a "special friend" to comfort me. I hadn't realized that a date was required for my sister's funeral, and had to bite back the urge to tell them that yes, I was 26 and happily single, and that the only special friend I needed required two double A batteries. The pitying looks were at least understandable, but there were plenty of people giving me glares of disappointment – the judgment that had never quite gone away since I'd stopped wearing my purity ring at the beginning of university, nearly a year and a half after I had actually lost my virginity.

Actually yesterday I had been grateful for the distraction. It was easy to explain to your mother's coworker that the baby you were awkwardly holding was your stepbrother's (certainly not yours), and that he and his wife had gone to the washroom to change because the precious angel had managed to puke all over both of them within minutes of finishing his bottle.

It was hard to look at the young girl lying in the coffin. She was still tall and thin and tan. But she looked older now, different, and it was impossible to know if that was because it was how she looked now or how she looked because she was dead.

The service continued with readings and hymns and prayers. Thankfully, communion wasn't typically part of a Lutheran funeral service; I didn't want this to drag on any longer than necessary, and I was seriously questioning my ability to sip from the common cup without taking it from Pastor and downing the wine. I grew more anxious as the service went on, wanting to get out of here, and feeling terrible as my mother's sobs only grew louder. The choir sang Beautiful Savior, which was my favourite hymn, and I knew that it would be forever tainted by its inclusion in this moment.

Finally, the Pastor gave the benediction, and told us to "depart in peace." The organist banged out the triumphant opening to "Lift High the Cross," and Jake slipped past me to take his spot as one of the pallbearers, along with Irene's son Mike, and Darcy's old boyfriend Spinner Mason – who had volunteered as soon as he'd arrived, taking the spot of the most fragile of the church elders, who took up the rest of the spaces. I shuffled down the aisle following the casket and my mother and father, who kept their distance from each other, even in times of mutual grief.

Meghan slid into step next to me and reached for my arm, and though I truly did like Jake's sweet wife, I pulled away, wanting to stand on my own two feet. I did my best to give thankful smiles to the people we passed, dabbing at my eyes to pretend that I had done my own share of crying over my sister's death.

By the time I reached the last pew, my hands were tense and my breathing was ragged and I knew that I couldn't keep up the charade of grief any longer. I was about ready to scream that this whole service had been fake, that Darcy wasn't deserving of our attention even in death. I glanced at the back of my parents' heads, their hair looking grayer than it had a few weeks prior, and I kept my composure only to prevent myself from making this even harder on them than this already was.

A hand reached out and pulled me out of the procession and into the aisle that stretched across the back of the sanctuary. I looked at the hand that had grabbed my arm before I saw the man's face, but that was all I needed to identify him.

"Eli," I gasped.

He was wearing a dark suit. He looked exactly the same as he had eight years ago, the night before he had left for university, the last time I had seen him in person. The only difference was that the skull ring was gone; his hands were bare. But I could see a familiar chain peaking out over the loosened dress shirt and tie, and I knew if I reached out and touched his throat I would find a silver guitar pick lurking beneath.

"You look like you need to get out of here."

I couldn't speak. I nodded and allowed him to lead me out of the side door, avoiding my family and the gapes of the onlookers who had not yet processed out of the church.

He led me to a car, a black Mustang that seemed like something Eli would drive. My car was here in the parking lot; my mother had asked me to join them in the limo but I had made the excuse that I might have to stop in at work after the cemetery, and had driven myself. But I knew that if I got into my car, I would never see him again and as much as I hated to see him now, I was so curious about what he was doing here that I couldn't bear to leave without finding out.

"Where to?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Anywhere I can get a drink."

He chuckled. "Sure thing."

It was 11:30 in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Degrassi Tumblr: musiksnob / New personal Tumblr: musiksnobbery**

**I am really sorry this chapter took so long. I rewrote parts of it three different times. Getting the right tone to fit Clare's complicated emotions was just about impossible.**

**In my super long author note for chapter one, I also neglected to thank LiteraryLolita and Sarenka222 for helping me with this. They helped me figure out my outline, cut out the bad ideas, and have read through these chapters because this fic terrifies me and I couldn't post without help. They are the best.**

**Enjoy! Please consider reviewing if you are so inclined.**

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Chapter Two

"**Break out the booze and like I said, let's have a ball before we're dead." – A Good Life by Jill Sobule**

Eli drove us to a nearby Italian restaurant that I had heard good things about – possibly from my paper's review – but hadn't had the opportunity to try. We were silent on the car ride over; the only noise came from his car radio, which was tuned to what I knew was Bullfrog's station though he didn't appear to be the current DJ. When we arrived, Eli held the door to the restaurant open for me and I gave him a tight smile.

The waiter led us to our table. Despite the fact that it was lunchtime, the lights were low and the table had a candle flickering on it. I clutched my purse tightly, even once we had sat down, so that I could make a quick escape if necessary. The reality of what I had done was just starting to hit me, that I had run away from my sister's funeral with my ex-boyfriend whom I hadn't spoken to in eight years.

I wanted to run away, to go back to my apartment and bury myself under the covers or just give in and go back to work like I'd been dying to for the past few days. I was waiting for Eli to explain what he was doing here and where he had been all these years. But he hadn't said a word and I stared down at my menu to give myself something to do.

I realized I was starving, and I tried to recall the last time I had sat down for a full meal, rather than grabbing a granola bar and a diet Coke out of the vending machines at work. I had gone on a lunch interview on Monday with a local literary agent to discuss trends in the upcoming books for the spring season, so it had been a few days. I vowed to stop subsisting on Timmie's bagels and coffee and at least make an effort to get dinner beyond a pre-made salad that I'd grab on my way home from work from Whole Foods right before they closed.

"The pasta here is really good."

I looked up at Eli whose eyes were glued to his menu. "Excuse me?"

"The pasta. It's whole wheat and they make it fresh daily. Bullfrog took us here for Cece's last birthday. I've been meaning to come back here but I'm not in this part of the city very often, so I never really think of it. I think Cece had the penne with vodka sauce and she said it was delicious."

"Seriously?" I asked before my brain could catch up to my words. Eli looked up in confusion, and I couldn't control my anger. "You show up at my sister's funeral out of nowhere and all you have to say is that I should try the pasta?!"

"Clare," he began, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"It's been eight years, Eli. Eight years! You don't have anything to say for yourself? Or did you manage to forget that eight years ago you went away to university, cheated on me, and dumped me over instant messenger?" It was a struggle to keep myself from screaming out loud in exasperation, but the room was beginning to fill up with other diners, so I lowered my voice ever so slightly. "I've been wonderful for eight fucking years and you wait until my sister dies so you can show up and screw everything up again? Is that what this is?"

Eli looked crestfallen yet unsurprised by my anger. Our waiter had been approaching but he stopped in his tracks at my outburst. "We're ready to order," I said loudly. He tiptoed over and looked at me expectantly. Eli raised his eyebrows at me. "I'll have the chicken parmagiana with whole wheat penne and a side salad with fat free ranch dressing."

The waiter looked at Eli and he fumbled for an answer. "I'll have the chicken alfredo," he said finally. "And a Stella Artois."

"For you madam?"

I hadn't thought to skim the drinks menu. "A glass of the house white," I said before glancing up at Eli and thinking better of it. "Actually, bring the bottle."

The waiter raised an eyebrow at Eli, who shrugged. "Two glasses then…and I'll skip the Stella."

"Who said I was sharing?" I said as the waiter walked away. Eli looked at me as if he wasn't sure if I was serious or not. I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to knock off a whole bottle before noon."

He laughed and held up his hands in a gesture of submission. "Hey, I don't know your drinking habits. In high school, even getting you to have one glass of something alcoholic required some convincing."

I flinched at the mention of high school me, and coughed to give myself an excuse to cover my face. I took a sip of the water glass sitting in front of me, and said in a challenging tone, "You're right. You don't know."

Eli looked like he was going to respond but we were interrupted once again. The waiter placed a basket of bread between us, as well as two wine glasses. He uncorked the bottle but after glancing between the stressed looks on each of our faces, he walked away without pouring either of us a glass, a situation I rapidly remedied for myself. Eli took a piece of bread and busied himself with the butter. He looked up with an amused smirk when he saw me drinking my wine without having poured him a glass.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not particularly kindly, but much calmer than before.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I heard about your sister, and I just…I felt like I should be there. I was going to sit in the back and sneak out before you saw me. I didn't want to interfere or make you uncomfortable or anything."

"You've never even met Darcy," I remarked.

"I know. But I felt like I had. You used to talk about her all the time."

"That just shows you how long ago it was when I would talk to you."

"Yeah well…" He ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture I still recalled from all those years ago.

"Because I haven't even talked to her in years, so it's not like there's even much I could have said about her."

Eli frowned. "That's too bad. Are you feeling guilty about that? Or angry at her because she died while out of touch?"

I snorted and took a long sip of my drink before responding. "Oh no. I know you're a big fan of therapy but you're not going to psychoanalyze me."

"I'm not," he pleaded. "I just…" Eli sighed. "I just know what it's like to feel guilty after someone you love dies."

I closed my eyes, trying to thwart the pounding headache that was certain to arrive any moment due to the stress of this conversation. When Eli and I were dating, I had come to terms with the fact that he had loved Julia and that he was in love with me. I'd understood that some days it was still hard for him to deal with her death, and that all I could do was tell him that I loved him and be there for him in whatever way he needed me to.

But after Eli had dumped me, it was harder to avoid the obvious truths about our relationships.

Eli had lost her.

Eli had thrown me away.

I shook my head, halting the conversation. "We are not going to sit here and commiserate over the dead people in our lives. That's not what we're here for."

"What exactly are we here for then?" Eli asked.

I raised my glass. "To keep me from drinking alone."

He clinked his glass with mine, but he looked concerned. I almost reassured him that I hadn't exactly turned into an alcoholic in the past seven years and these were obviously extenuating circumstances. I was twenty six and the nights of going to bed with a glass of wine or three to drown my sorrows were long over. But I was afraid to give him any sort of information about my life, things he could use to judge me. I was long past caring with Eli Goldsworthy thought of me but seeing his concerned and pitying expression upset me. I hoped that the waiter would come back with our food soon.

My phone buzzed again in my purse, jolting me to attention. I fished it out and checked the screen to see that it was Angela, my assistant at the paper, calling. Due to budget cutbacks, she was the assistant to three different editors, and I used her the least because I found her to be so incompetent that it was easier to type my own dictation, set my own appointment schedule, and organize my notes into files than to let her mess it up and have to fix it.

"I need to take this," I said, answering before Eli could give me a response. "Hello?"

"Oh Clare," she said in surprise. "I'm so sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to leave you a voicemail."

"It's fine," I said, glancing at Eli, who was avoiding my gaze by fixating on the half eaten bread on his plate. "You're not interrupting…the funeral is over."

"I hate to bother you while you're out on personal business, but Jerry finally heard back from Levi Hanselman, with the answers to his email interview for Friday's edition. And when he gave the write-up to Lauren for fact checking, she found out that he had given the exact same answers to the Cleveland Sun. Like word for word, copy and paste, same answers. We can't run this."

"Maybe if Jerry had more creative questions, he wouldn't have been able to do that," I muttered under my breath.

"What?" Angela asked.

"Nothing," I said. I leaned my hand against my forehead, running through my mental notes for a possible substitution. "Call Lena Hawthorne. She's got a new picture book coming out. It's not for a few weeks but we could do a preview interview and a write up on her backlist. She owes me a favour; use my name." Our waiter brought our food over to the table and I gave him a short smile of thanks. "Oh and Angela, make sure you send Christine. Jerry isn't capable of interviewing an attractive woman without screwing it up worse than usual."

"Thanks, Clare," she said brightly. "And I'm sorry again for your loss."

"Sorry," I said to Eli, once I had hung up. "There's always a fire at work that needs putting out." To keep him from asking any personal questions, I took control of the conversation. "So how did you even know about the funeral?"

"Cece saw the obituary in the paper. She called me to let me know the details."

"Which paper?" I asked bluntly, as I cut into my chicken.

"Excuse me?"

"Which paper did Cece see the obituary in?" I knew my mother had placed a death notice in several Toronto newspapers, wanting to get out the news to as many people as possible in one fell swoop.

He shrugged. "Probably the Interpreter. I think she has a subscription."

I rolled my eyes. "That's become such a gossip rag. It's barely a step above the Sun at this point."

Eli pursed his lips. "You used to have a pretty high opinion of it."

I stared at him. Was he seriously going to waltz back into my life after eight years and make casual references to one of the most difficult things I had ever experienced in my life – my co-op at the Interpreter where I had been sexually harassed by an esteemed journalist who had never been punished for his crimes? I could go on and on about the Interpreter's editorial direction and how many sections and pages they had cut back on, how few reporters were still even employed there and that half of their news content was just reprinted AP wire pieces. But Eli didn't deserve to hear my opinions on that.

It had been eight years. He didn't deserve anything.

"Things have changed," I responded, only because I felt awkward avoiding his statement. I finished the last of the wine in my glass and poured another, larger portion from the bottle.

Eli looked like he was at a loss for words. "So what would you recommend then?"

"Excuse me?"

"Newspaper-wise. For Cece, I mean."

"Obviously the Globe and Mail," I scoffed, reaching for a piece of bread.

"Is that where you work?" Eli asked.

"Really?" I asked dryly. "You haven't Googled my name even once in the past four years? Or checked out the Book Review and noticed my byline?"

"Sorry," he said with a grin in his eyes. "I guess I'm just not that interested in children's books."

"So you do know," I said, a little relieved. It would have been kind of humiliating if he hadn't even had the slightest interest in what I had been doing – professionally, of course.

He smiled, held his hand to his ear mimicking a telephone receiver, and raised his voice to mock his mother's pitch. "I found the perfect present for your cousin David – a new book called The Hunger Games. And all because _Cla-are_ wrote the most amazing review. Did you know she's an assistant editor now?" He emphasized my name in a sing-song fashion that moms use when they're trying to give you a not so subtle hint. "I knew you worked there," he said in his normal voice. "I just didn't want to creep you out that my mother is your number one fan."

I smirked. "Cece did always like me."

He laughed. "A little too much I think. She's never liked any of my girlfriends since."

The smile slipped off my face at his comment. It wasn't like I hadn't dated anyone since Eli: Jonathan for nearly three years in university, and Michael, on and off for over a year. But I didn't want to know about the women Eli had dated after me. It was better for me to imagine that the girl he had broken up with me over had broken his heart and that he'd lived a lonely, sad life since. I knew that made me childish and petty, but I hadn't thought about him in a very long time, and seeing him again brought back all of the hurt and bitterness that I had been harboring under the surface. It wasn't the wistful regret that I felt momentarily when I saw photos from Jonathan's wedding posted on a mutual friend's Facerange. It was a much stronger feeling that was probably caused by the fact that I hadn't been the one to end that relationship – Eli was.

And the fact that I hadn't expected that it would end.

I still had half a plate of chicken parmesan and pasta and nearly my whole salad to go, and Eli hadn't made much more progress, so I knew this awkward meal wasn't going to be over any time soon. I thought about waving down the waiter and asking for the check in advance, but I just buckled down and started devouring my food, pausing only to take liberal sips from my wineglass.

"Sorry that got awkward," Eli said after a few minutes of silence. I shrugged and didn't respond at first, but as time went on, even I couldn't avoid conversation.

"So what do you do?" I asked politely, though I knew my earlier accusations would mean he'd get the message that I hadn't been Googling him, hoping for information on what he was doing. After our break up, I had blocked him on Facerange and Twitter and removed his number from my cell phone. It apparently hadn't mattered much. He'd never attempted to call or email, and my mother and Glen still lived in the same house and had never received either a letter or a visit.

If he had made the connection, he didn't let on. "I'm a teacher, actually. High school drama and creative writing."

"Really?" I said. Eli of the big writing dreams had become a…teacher?

He sat up a little straighter and I could tell he was defensive in his response. "I couldn't get a writing job after I graduated, and a friend got me an interview. I worked my ass off to get my master's in education while I taught. And this school isn't like Degrassi; they put on pretty professional productions. Three plays a year: a musical, a straight drama or a night of one acts, and a community Christmas production – and I get to direct them all."

That did make sense. Eli had always been very hands on with his productions, and I knew directing was something he enjoyed. "I guess you like musicals now."

He wrinkled his nose. "More than I used to but I prefer the straight play. The school hires a music director so I only have to focus on the acting, not the singing and dancing."

"Are you still writing?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's hard; I don't have a lot of free time. But in some ways, because I'm so busy, I have to really dedicate the time to it, so I've accomplished a lot. It's a little easier to find time during the summer, but I usually do at least one community theatre play. Except for last summer, they were doing a production of this play I wrote in an off-off-Broadway theatre, so I crashed with Fiona for a few weeks and just kind of observed." He looked really proud. "Totally worth it."

"Wow," I said, genuinely impressed. "That's amazing." I could see his eyes lit up at my words, clearly pleased by my admiration. It was a look that was familiar, a smile that spread across his lips whenever I had returned one of his plays or stories with more praise than red pen edits. It was a look that was too intimate to share with someone who had hurt me so badly, so long again.

My phone buzzed again, with an email from Angela, and I pulled it out to type back a brief response, grateful for the excuse to look away.

Eli continued talking but his tone slipped a little. "Yeah, I've had a bunch of productions staged around Canada and the States, mostly of this one act play that I wrote at NYU. But that was by far the biggest, and most impressive."

"Uh huh," I murmured, trying to figure out if I had detailed enough notes to give to another writer to do a first draft of an article on how unicorns had replaced faeries as the paranormal romance trope du jour.

"Last year I had my drama class stage Love Roulette. Flaming script and bipolar breakdown and everything. It was classic."

"That's great," I muttered, my fingers dancing over the small keyboard. I copied Dennis on the email, knowing that he would step in and take over before Angela screwed up Thursday's edition.

Eli stopped talking and it wasn't until I looked up and saw the look he was giving me that I processed what he had just said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "There's just this work thing. I'm done now, I promise." I paused for a second. "You didn't really stage Love Roulette, did you?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, that's a chapter of my life that I'd rather keep in the past."

"Right," I said. Except it was hard to believe that, when he was sitting across the table from me. And I still didn't quite understand how and why that had happened. "You said that you…" I took a large gulp of wine before proceeding. "You said that you were just going to sit in the back and sneak out…but you didn't. Why? What made you ask me to leave with you?"

Eli poured himself another glass of wine – his second to my fourth – and evaded my question. "I was surprised that I didn't see Alli at the church. Are you guys still friends?"

"We're friends," I confirmed, although we were nowhere near as close as we used to be. We called on each others' birthdays and made lots of promises to visit but it had been some time since I had seen her. "But she's still living in Boston. Finishing up her PhD at MIT. She's at a crucial point in her research and couldn't make it back. Did you see that garish floral arrangement at the front of the church? She sent that in her place."

"What about Adam?" he asked. There was a catch in his voice that I didn't quite understand. He hadn't kept in contact with Adam?

I shook my head. "We lost touch back in university. I'm surprised that you two did though. You were always so close."

Eli wouldn't meet my eyes. "The last time I spoke to him was the night after your prom," he said coolly.

I gaped at him. That meant…he knew.

After Eli had unceremoniously dumped me, Adam had been my rock. Alli had already gone off to MIT and Jake was taking classes at a local college while working both for his dad and as a waiter to help pay his tuition. K.C. had already moved to Vancouver, Jenna spent most of her time with chirpy Becky Baker, and Connor had never been good at dealing with emotions. Adam had put his arm around me whenever I cried – though he spent my frequent breakdowns rolling his eyes in typical Adam fashion. He had convinced me to stop throwing my life away after my report card from first term contained my first, second and third C averages. The only thing he hadn't been able to do was to get me to submit an application to Columbia – my dream school. I had managed to focus just long enough to apply to one university, my safety school Ryerson, including a features article on coping with heartbreak to gain entrance into their School of Journalism.

Adam and I had gotten close, nearly inseparable. Drew referred to us as "Clare-n-Adam" and I'd spent so many nights on their basement couch that for Christmas, Audra had bought me a pair of pajamas to leave at their house. We played video games together at his insistence, and watched romantic comedies at mine. We spent hours lamenting our non-existent love lives. The only thing he didn't do was tell me about Eli, with whom I knew he kept in contact.

Toward the end of the year, he had asked me to the prom. I hadn't wanted to go but he had convinced me by reminding me that he had gotten shot at the one two years prior and the year before was dateless and did not attend. So at his insistence, I had bought a new dress and gotten my hair done, and we posed for pictures on his front lawn, in front of Audra's rosebushes. The night was unexpectedly fun, and Adam and I had danced and laughed together more than we had in all the months prior. Afterward, we returned to his basement and discovered a bottle of cheap champagne that 19 year old Drew had left for us.

We'd giggled as the foam slipped over the edges as we amateurishly opened it, and had taken turns taking swigs out of the bottle, sitting close on the couch as we watched a mindless comedy movie with the funny parts edited out for cable. And when a character on screen made a sex joke, Adam looked at me sadly, "I can't believe I'm going to graduate high school next week and still be a virgin."

I didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fact that – despite sleeping with Eli the year before – I knew what that kind of loneliness felt like. So I leaned over and kissed him. It didn't feel romantic, and it didn't feel entirely comfortable either, but it provided a closeness that we both needed in that moment.

I didn't take his virginity; we stopped long before that point although we'd ended up with swollen lips and disheveled – or in my case, missing – clothes. And though I'd briefly felt the loneliness recede when his lips were touching mine, once we'd pulled back from each other in a silent admission that this had been a mistake, the only thing I felt was awkward.

Things were never the same after. And when Adam moved to Ottawa for university, all I felt was relief.

But now that I knew that he had told Eli, I felt awful. Eli and I had been broken up for months at that point, but somehow, the fact that I had kissed his best friend felt like an act of betrayal.

"Eli, it wasn't…" I tried to explain but Eli cut me off with a wave of his hand.

"Water under the bridge," he said, and I bit back my instinct to edit his remark as clichéd. "No need to explain."

"It's not what you…"

He glared at me. "I don't want to talk about it."

If things hadn't already been awkward, they were now. I couldn't believe that Eli hadn't talked to Adam since then. It made sense that he'd be mad, even if he had no right to be. I wondered if that meant something, that Eli's feelings hadn't disappeared with his final IM break up. But I pushed that thought out of my mind immediately.

I coughed, and took a bite of my salad, barely tasting the food. I tried to think of an excuse to leave, but the wine I had guzzled down caught up with me and I realized I was pretty drunk. I was nowhere near a train line and I didn't know the buses in this area very well. I could call a cab, but I wasn't sure how much cash I had on me and I'd refused to pay for cabs with a credit card after my card number was stolen, two days before my paper wrote an expose about unscrupulous cab companies. Unscrupulous…the word tangled in my fuzzy brain.

I realized I was feeling a little dizzy and for the first time reached out for my water glass rather than my wine glass. "Are you okay?" Eli asked gently.

I nodded. I just needed to do something to bring this conversation back to normal – or as normal as a conversation with your ex who you haven't seen in eight years could be – and then my head would stop spinning and I would be okay. "Have you read any good books lately?" I asked, figuring that was a neutral question.

He thought for a moment and then smiled wryly. "I really liked Neal Shusterman's latest."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I thought you aren't really into children's books."

Eli smirked. "I'm not…but my favourite book reviewer is."

I blinked at him, as I attempted to piece together what he was telling me. "How…?"

He shrugged. "I follow your Twitter feed."

"But I blocked you."

He laughed. "I've changed my name in the past eight years. Or did you think I'd always be DeadHandRocks69?"

"So you read my review…and then went out and read the book?" I asked slowly, still feeling like I was missing something.

"It's good for my job," he said, his tone blasé. "Keep up with what the kids are reading. High school creative writing class is basically just teens ripping off their favourite YA novels anyway."

"Right," I said. Of course, it was for his job.

But his tone lightened when he responded. "Plus you made it sound so good. I always liked the books you recommended for me in high school." He chuckled. "I can't say I'd complain if you started writing reviews for the adult section, but if it makes me a better teacher, I don't mind it."

He was looking at me in a way that I couldn't quite understand. Like he was…

Like he was _proud_ of me.

I'd known for a long time that I'd been lucky to get a journalism job straight out of undergrad, and that working for the Globe and Mail and particularly my promotion to assistant editor was very prestigious, especially for someone my age. And though it wasn't the hard-hitting investigative journalism that I had aspired to in high school, I'd always been interested in literature, and my particular love of young adult novels had been instrumental in helping me achieve the honours I had earned.

But sometimes I worried that the job was only meaningful to _me_, that I hadn't made much of an impact on anyone's life, except a scant few authors whose novels weren't published by one of the big six and certainly had gained a large sum of their buyers from my reviews.

It certainly wasn't on the level of the heroic, selfless work my sister had done.

But Eli – whose opinion I had always respected implicitly – followed my writing. And he was proud of me.

And he was here right now.

It was too much and I hurried to stand up from the table, knocking over my wine glass at the same time. "I'm sorry," I said frantically, running out before I could see where it had landed. I hurried out the front door, and stood, gasping for air outside the restaurant.

I was crying, all of the emotions that I had kept contained through the past few days came pouring out against my will. I tried to pull out my phone, to text Jake to see if he could pick me up, but I couldn't get my tear-filled eyes to focus on the screen. I stumbled a few feet toward the street, wondering if there was a bus stop nearby, but I wobbled in my heels, and had to stop in my tracks.

It took a few minutes but without turning around, I heard Eli approach from behind me. "Clare," he said softly, in a gentle tone I hadn't heard in over eight years. He wrapped his arms around me and I sobbed, pressing my face into his chest.

I didn't know how long we were standing there for, with me crying more hysterically than I ever had in my life, and Eli just hanging on to me like I mattered. I was so terrified that he would let go of me that I continued crying, long after the uncontrolled gushing had ceased.

He did finally pull back, but just enough that he could see my face, his arms still around my back, keeping me standing. "This is why I asked you to leave with me," he whispered softly. "Whenever you're upset, you keep it all bottled inside, until you can't anymore. But it always comes to the surface…always." He brushed a few final tears off my cheek. "I looked around the church and I saw all these people I vaguely recognized from your past – cousins and neighbors. But I didn't see anyone who was there for _you_."

His words brought on a fresh gush of tears. "What does that say about me…?" I sobbed. "That the only person who came to my sister's funeral because they cared about me is the guy who broke my heart and hasn't spoken to me in eight years?"

Eli thought for a moment. "I don't know," he said honestly, his voice a little hoarse. "But I could help you find out."

He gazed at me but I looked away, stepping out of his embrace. It was too much. Eli was here and my sister was dead and I'd had too much wine, and I wasn't about to add another mistake to my list.

I shook my head. "Just take me home."


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Degrassi Tumblr: musiksnob / New personal Tumblr: musiksnobbery**

**Thank you for reading this. This chapter was getting unwieldy so I had to cut in in half and it's still super long. I should finish up Chapter Four in less time than it took for this one considering I've already written part of it and I'm very motivated.**

**Thanks again to Cortney for the advice and reassurance.**

* * *

Chapter Three

"With a smirk on your face and a gun at my head, you come to my place and ask to be fed." – Firecracker by Lisa Loeb

We were a few blocks from my apartment when Eli pulled up to a red light and looked over at me. The ride had been silent after my breakdown in the parking lot and I wasn't sure I wanted to open up to him again.

Fortunately, his question was benign. "Do you have any coffee in your apartment?"

I shook my head. I did own a coffee pot and there was probably an old can stuffed in the back of a cabinet, but I knew there was no milk or cream in my fridge and I couldn't drink it black. "I usually just stop at Timmies on my way to work."

"Is there one nearby?" I gave him a curious look and he said gently, "You're a little drunk for three in the afternoon. The coffee will help."

"There's one on Bay Street, right off Dundas," I said and he nodded in acknowledgment. He miraculously found a parking space nearby. "You can stay here."

I agreed, not really wanting to get out of his car and face the public with my puffy eyes and shaky hands. I realized as soon as he'd left that I hadn't given him any money for the coffee and had stuck him with the lunch bill. I started digging frantically through my purse, looking for my wallet. I had no idea what the meal cost and to my dismay, but not surprise, I only found enough money to cover my coffee.

Eli returned a few minutes later and handed me one large cup. "You need to take me to an ATM," I demanded, and he gave me an amused grin.

"I know teaching isn't the most lucrative career path, but I can afford a cup of coffee."

"But you shouldn't have to buy me lunch," I protested.

"Clare," he said patiently. "I can treat you to lunch. It's the least I can do."

He gave me a look that immediately ceased my protests – not with how effective it was, but how familiar. We'd always argued over who would pick up the check when we went out. Chivalrous Eli always wanted to treat, while my feminist side would challenge him each and every time. We'd ended up with a pretty fair rotation, alternating who would pick up the tab, but we still had the argument each and every time.

And whenever Eli won, he would have that expression on his face.

"Fine," I acquiesced. I guided him through the last few turns to my apartment. There was a no parking zone in front and I knew I could just have him pull over to the side and drop me off. But there was something holding me back. What was I supposed to do? Thank Eli for the company and say goodbye? If I left him in this moment, would I ever see him again? This day had been so odd and so unexpected and though I longed to run away from the car and pretend this had never happened, I couldn't.

So I directed him into the small parking lot behind the building, pointing out my parking spot – the one I paid dearly for at nearly $200 a month. I realized once again that I had left my car in the church parking lot and would have to do the world's strangest walk of shame to retrieve it once I was sober again. I took a large gulp of the coffee, relieved that my head had stopped spinning.

My hand was on the car door handle but I couldn't bring myself to open it.

Eli seemed to be feeling just as awkward as I was. "So..." he said, clearly unsure of what parting words were appropriate for this situation.

"Yeah," I said, feeling foolish. He laughed shortly, and didn't have a response.

My mind was full of questions but I couldn't bring my mouth to voice them. _Will I see you again soon or will it take another seven years? Can you tell me everything that happened since I last saw you? How can you be here with me now and not apologize for how much you hurt me? _My breath caught and my eyes filled with tears yet again. Sitting next to Eli after all these years was literally painful. My heart throbbed in my chest and my brain thudded in a way that I knew was not alcohol induced.

Maybe it was the grief that I didn't want to face or the loneliness that I was never willing to acknowledge, but I wasn't ready for this to be over. I wasn't ready for him to walk out of my life – probably forever.

"I don't want to be alone," I said softly.

Eli's eyes searched mine. "I could take you to your mother's house. Or you could call Jake and invite him over."

"Oh," I said, my voice betraying how deflated I was by his answer. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed..."

He put his hand on my arm. "I can stay with you. I'd like to stay with you." He looked away from me. "I just didn't think you'd want that."

I shrugged. "Today I have no idea what I want."

He unbuckled his seatbelt and paused – I'm assuming to give me another chance to change my mind. "I can keep you company for a little bit. If you want me to leave, just let me know."

We left the car and walked inside, Eli's hand lightly supporting the small of my back despite the fact that I was feeling much steadier on my feet. We waited for the rickety old elevator in silence, and for the first time I realized what bringing Eli to my apartment meant.

As I fumbled with the key outside my door, I decided to warn him. "Umm...I don't really invite people over very often. So it's probably a little...messier than you might be expecting."

Eli laughed and raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me I can handle it."

I opened the door slowly, as if that would change what was beyond it. It was a small victory that since I hadn't gone into the office yesterday due to the wake, I had actually slept at home rather than kipping on the couch in my office as I often did on Tuesday nights, since the Book Review came out on Wednesdays (in addition to Sundays). That meant the bed was made for once and not covered by printed out articles, books I needed to review and random outfits that I needed to drop at the dry cleaner. Unfortunately, that meant that all of these items had been unceremoniously dropped in a heap next to the bed as I'd set my laptop aside around 2 a.m. to get some rest.

But Eli hadn't seemed to notice that pile, as his eyes darted around the small room, his jaw dropping in amazement. The studio was crammed with piles of books and newspapers, covering every available surface and lining the perimeter of my living space. I had once had a tiny kitchen table that sat in front of the small dinette with a refrigerator and range top, but I'd moved it to the other side of my bed to use as a desk years ago – and it had long since been swallowed by the ghosts of work's past. My tiny closet was bursting at the seams with blazers and sensible skirts and pants, and the top of my dresser featured sweaters draped over stacks of picture books and graphic novels.

"You don't even have a couch," he smirked in bemusement.

"Like I said, I don't invite people over." I tried to remember the last person who had been here and realized that it had actually been Jonathan, my boyfriend from back in university. I had moved out of my mother's house at the beginning of third year and due to a housing mixup he had been placed in a two person room. We'd spent a number of nights back here until he had been able to move into a single room and we'd moved our frequent trysts back to campus for the remaining year and half we were together.

"And you never want to sit on a couch?" he teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Look, I had a futon back in university but it took up too much room so I never bothered to replace it after it fell apart. This is a very small apartment."

"I'm sorry; is this an apartment?" he teased. "It seems like one of those postage stamp sized hostel rooms you'd stay in when you're backpacking around Europe with a train ticket and 20 euro to your name."

"Very funny," I said. I took a seat on the bed, noting with regret for the first time that I had gotten rid of my kitchen chairs once I had stopped using the kitchen, and that Eli would have no choice but to join me. At least I still had a queen sized bed; I had toyed briefly with downgrading to a twin in order to fit another bookshelf. It wasn't like the bed needed to fit two people in it.

But Eli seemed enraptured at looking at all the stuff I had laying around the apartment and I could feel my face growing red with embarrassment. "Clare," he said finally with a chuckle in his voice. "I was pretty certain hoarding wasn't a contagious disease, but perhaps my therapists were wrong."

"Shut up," I said, a little sharper than I had intended. "It's a small space, and the publishers send me all these books and I can't bear to throw them out. I don't have people over and I barely spend any time here myself. I'm sure your apartment isn't much better." My last statement was a dig that I just couldn't help.

He smirked. "Condo, actually. And while I'll admit my third bedroom could rival this, the living room and kitchen are pretty spotless."

"That's great," I mumbled. He kept looking around, picking up the occasional book and leafing through it, and his nosy, too familiar actions were making me a bit crazy, so I thought I'd try to distract him. "Are you still living in Toronto? Condos are pretty expensive here."

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly, looking at the cover of a picture book that featured anthropomorphic cats. "My great uncle died. Didn't have any kids but he had a decent amount of money and he left some to me. Used it for a big down payment so my mortgage isn't out of reach."

I wondered if Eli lived with someone. Three bedrooms were a lot for a single guy, and I was skeptical that Eli could have a spotless kitchen and living room without help. I knew he wasn't married – there were no rings on his fingers – but he could be engaged or in a cohabitating relationship.

Eli put down the book and glanced up at the only touch of decoration in the whole apartment – a large framed reproduction of one of John Tenniel's illustrations. "Alice in Wonderland?" he asked, looking at me curiously. "That was Julia's favourite book as a child."

"I know," I said curtly. That was one of the few bits of information he had bothered to share with me about her. "It was mine too."

He looked back at the poster. "I didn't know that," he admitted.

I didn't want to tell him that I had never bothered to mention it because I didn't want to insert myself into a fond memory he had of her. He had only dated her for six months before her death, and they'd been friends for less than a year before that. At the time, I'd thought that he and I would have decades to spent together, making memories for ourselves. I had never expected things would end ten months after we had gotten back together.

Between Eli and Darcy I felt like I had spent the entire day dwelling in the past and I was starting to get sick of it. "It was a gift from my boss," I explained. "When I got my promotion."

"Cool," he said, finally taking a seat on the edge of the bed, next to me but at a respectable distance. "The only thing my school's ever given me was a brand new clipboard."

I couldn't help but laugh. "And how long did it take you to draw all over it with black sharpie?"

He grinned. "25 minutes. A new world record." We smiled at each other awkwardly for a moment before he changed the subject. "So do you have anything to drink? I wasn't exactly expecting to stay or else I would have gotten myself a coffee."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said jumping up. I was a little out of practice at hosting company. I opened up the fridge door and braced myself for Eli's laughter which came without delay. The entire fridge was empty, save two cans of Diet Coke, a bottle of white wine that I had purchased and opened the night before, and a box of baking soda that I left in the back at my mother's insistence – though I hadn't replaced it in the six years since I'd moved in. "I've got Diet Coke or wine."

Eli grimaced. "I'll have the wine. You couldn't get me to drink diet soda if you paid me."

"I could run down to the convenience store on the corner and get something."

"It's fine," he reassured me. "I'm just glad to see you're not storing books in your refrigerator."

I decided to ignore his comment, tired of defending myself from his jokes despite the fact that he'd only been here for a few minutes. I grabbed the bottle and frowned at my surprisingly empty sink. "Could you get that?" I asked, gesturing at the glass that was perched on my overflowing nightstand.

He brought it over me to me with a smirk, and I squirted a little dish detergent into the glass and began to rinse it out. "You only own one glass? Jeez, Edwards, I feel like I should take you to Home Outfitters and help you set up your very own grown up apartment."

"No point," I said, filling the wine glass nearly to the brim and daringly taking a sip before handing it over to him. "I'll just fill everything back up with children's books and throw away all the non-essentials."

He raised an eyebrow at my gesture but took his own larger sip without complaint. "Well you've got me there. Throwing out non-essentials still isn't my thing."

I bit back the urge to remind him he'd had no problem doing that very thing to me once upon a time and sat back down on the bed.

"So what play are you working on now?" I asked, the conversation not quite as strained as it was in the restaurant.

"A Christmas Carol," he said, rolling his eyes. "We've just started rehearsals. Most of the mains are played by adults – some teachers, some from the community. It usually makes my life a little easier, but my Ebeneezer is a bit of a diva. Fortunately the music director gets most of his grief. He keeps trying to get her to change the key of all his songs."

"Sounds like fun."

He shrugged. "It can be. I prefer the drama we do at the beginning of the second half." He looked at me carefully. "We're actually doing Fantastic Journey this year."

I gasped. That was Eli's final play at Degrassi. He had written and directed it and I had been his stage manager. He had actually won two Grundy awards for Best Play and Best Script though he had not returned to Toronto for the ceremony. It was another difficult struggle for him, as he'd suffered through writer's block at the beginning and a lot of criticism from the administration at the end, but his story about high school students who were both superheros and suffering from different mental illnesses was even more beautiful than his onstage breakdown in Love Roulette. "Are you going to stage the intergalactic battle with kids on wires?"

He shook his head. "The best I could get was a two story set. It's cheaper to build than it is to get the school's liability insurance on board with kids flying through the air."

I smiled wryly. "They always ruin your fun."

"The University of Minnesota expressed interest last year but they ended up going in a different direction. But someday I'm sure, it'll get staged the way I intended."

"I hope so," I said genuinely and smiled. "Do you remember the meeting we had with Simpson? When we asked about the flying?"

Eli turned toward me on the bed and grinned. "I'm pretty sure the exact quote was: 'I don't have time for your flying bullshit, Eli.'"

I lowered my voice in a very ineffective imitation. "'The actors can just flap their arms. Half of your plays have turned into disasters and that's without putting anyone's lives in jeopardy.'"

Eli faux-pouted at the memory. "The first disaster was Fiona's fault, not mine. It's not fair that I have to take credit for that one."

I leaned over and patted his leg before I realized what I was doing and pulled my hand away. "I'm pretty sure when your actress bails because she has to go to rehab you can't exactly put the blame on her."

"Still...I think I was unfairly maligned. Not all of my plays were epic failures."

"Maybe not the end results, but sometimes the road to success was paved with a whole lot of fuck ups."

He looked at me appreciably, apparently impressed with the fact that I was no longer shy about cursing. "You exaggerate."

"As I recall, you decided to stage the scene using the rock wall to sell Simpson on how safe it would be, and Imogen got so tangled up in Dave's rope that the custodian had to bring out the scissor lift to cut her down."

He laughed and his face screwed up into an expression of such delight at the long-forgotten memory that it brought on a flood of memories. The look on his face as I descended the stairs in my prom dress. The expression of joy when I had whispered in his ear that I had finally decided I was "ready." The love letter he had given me two days before Valentine's Day that was still the most romantic sentiment I had ever received in my life – one of the mementos that I couldn't bear to part with that was stored under the bed in an old shoebox.

"Not my finest moment," he admitted. "But it was pretty awesome to see. She was so red from being upside down for that long."

"And her face was in Dave's crotch." I covered my face as I giggled.

"And he kept murmuring "Mrs. Bhandari in her underwear" over and over so he wouldn't get hard."

We both were laughing so hard that Eli had to put down his nearly empty wine glass to keep himself from dropping it and I had to grab my pillow to muffle my guffaws.

"You're right," he said once he finally caught his breath. "Maybe a two story set will work. Although with my luck, my lead actor will fall off it the night before dress rehearsals, and his understudy will be hit by a car."

I rolled my eyes at him. "A two story set sounds fun." A thought occurred to me and I laughed. "I bet Jake would be all over that if you need some help with it."

He smiled. "How is he doing anyway?"

It was always surprising to me that Eli and Jake had become pretty good friends considering how much they had disliked each other. But once Jake and I became comfortable with each other as stepsiblings, any prior animosity faded away. "He's good. He's actually working as an engineer for a firm that does environmental design."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "An engineer? Wow. What happened to Martin and Son construction?"

I frowned. "Glen made Jake go to community college to take some business classes and while he was there, Glen had an accident on a job and fell off a two story roof. He's lucky to be alive and especially that he wasn't paralyzed. But he messed up his back pretty bad and he couldn't work anymore. And he really didn't want Jake to take over the business considering, even though Jake still wanted to."

Eli winced. "Then how did he become an engineer?"

"He was still really interested in environmental design and he kept finding all these classes he wanted to take but they were all engineering track. So eventually he caved in and started working on pre-recs. It took him 7 years but he finished the degree."

"Cool," he said. "Was that his girlfriend with him at the church?"

"His wife, actually. They've got a three month old at home."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Crazy. I can't believe people our age are having kids. Weddings are bad enough. I must have gone to twenty in the past three years. And now every time I log into Facerange, there's a new ultrasound or baby bump picture."

I nodded in confirmation although it had been almost three years since I had been to any weddings – one for a distant cousin and another for a coworker. I realized with some amusement that I had even dragged Michael to the family wedding in order to prevent the deluge of aunts trying to set me up with a nice boy from church. The tactic had been ineffective however, since it just led to them asking us when we'd be making it down the aisle and not finding it amusing when we truthfully told them never.

I walked over to the fridge and rifled through the calendars and notes I had posted there to find the birth announcement which had gotten buried. I handed it to Eli and he laughed. "Looks just like his Daddy. Poor kid."

I grinned. "Yeah it's too bad. Meghan's got that beautiful red hair and everything."

"Yeah, I'm surprised she'd marry a guy like Jake. He's always had such terrible taste in women."

Eli's smirk let me know he was kidding but I couldn't help but be a little offended. "Too bad Katie Matlin isn't here to set you straight. I think she was a black belt."

He laughed. "Yeah, she could completely kick my ass. And if she didn't, her boyfriend could. The guy must weigh double what I weigh and it's all solid muscle."

I raised an eyebrow. "You keep in touch with Katie?" I hadn't heard from the girl since she and Jake had ended things not long after their graduation; it was ostensibly amicable but they hadn't done a good job of staying in contact.

"Nah, just from Facerange. She lives in New York and I've thought about inviting her out for lunch some time when I'm there, but I don't want her 300 pound boyfriend to get the wrong idea. Her sister teaches at the same school as me though. I see her all the time."

"It sounds like you spend a lot of time down in New York City." I hadn't been out of Toronto in the past year, and before that my trips were usually to journalism conferences. I had made the trip down to New York a few times in the past to meet with some of the bigger publishers and to cover Book Expo but our paper's travel budget had been cut and we'd been leaning on Skype to do interviews instead.

"It is my favourite city in the world. And I've got an open invitation at the Coyne's, whether Fiona is there or not so it's worth it. A lot of my friends from university still live there too. And last time I was there I met up with Mo Mashkour. Do you remember him? He, Jake, and I used to..." He gave me an odd glance and coughed. "Hang out occasionally. Nice guy. He's a music supervisor for the NBC promo department."

"And what is Fiona up to?" I asked.

He shrugged. "She does event planning for some hoity-toity company for rich people who have too much time on their hands but can't be bothered to spend it doing anything remotely related to work." He smirked. "She does all the behind the scene creative stuff but they don't let her deal directly with clients, since Fiona Coyne doesn't take orders from anyone."

"Interesting," I said, though really it sounded kind of dull. "Are she and Imogen still together?"

Eli laughed. "Not even close. Imogen's in Ottawa now, and married to an investment banker named Charles Worthington." Eli used a swarthy British accent to deliver his name.

"Wow," I said shaking my head. "I wouldn't have expected that." She was such a quirky girl. I couldn't imagine her marrying someone who worked in the financial field.

"Me neither. I mean, I kind of figured the lesbian thing was a phase – considering how much she used to want me," he joked. "But her dad died a few years ago and I think she was just looking for someone who was very stable to be there for her."

"I'm sorry," I said, though I had no idea if Eli had become friendly with Imogen's father in the last few years. "When did she and Fiona break up?"

Eli coughed. "About a month after they split up for university."

I looked down at my hands. That was right around when Eli had dumped me. "Distance is hard," I said casually. I wondered if Eli would take the bait and bring up the end of our relationship.

"Yeah...I know Fi was upset when Imogen decided to go to Emily Carr, but she got a scholarship there and she couldn't afford FIT."

"I guess some things aren't meant to be," I said softly.

Eli was silent for a minute and then smirked. "Do you remember the time we went to see that film for French extra credit?"

I knew exactly what he meant. "Les Belles Femmes de Versaille," I said in a flawless French accent.

"That's the one." Eli's face lit up. "And the two of them started making out about three minutes into the movie."

"They were so gross," I remembered. I wasn't a big fan of public displays of affection beyond a quick peck on the lips, but the two of them were about one layer of clothes away from having sex in the theatre.

"And when it was over, we told them what the movie was about and made everything up and they got in trouble with Madame Weiss."

I smiled for a moment but then another memory came to me. After the movie, the two girls had decided to return to Fiona's condo to finish what they had started. So Eli and I had taken advantage of the fact that he had recently received both his license back and Bullfrog's permission to borrow his car and we'd gone to the abandoned church. And maybe it was because we'd just spent two hours next to two very pretty girls who were tangled in a very heated embrace, but things escalated very quickly between us.

It was the first time that I'd felt comfortable enough to let Eli take off more than just my shirt. My bra and jeans and eventually even my panties had been cast aside, piled up with Eli's clothes and boxers on the edge of the soft blanket he had spread out. We had explored a lot of new things that day, and it was an experience I remembered in intimate detail.

I didn't have to wonder long if Eli recalled what we had done after the movie. He gazed at me, his eyelashes lowered, and said in a husky voice, "That was a really great day."

"You remember?" I said softly.

"How could I forget?" he said in that same low tone. "I couldn't believe that after I had waited all that time, you finally let me take your clothes off...and in public no less."

My cheeks were on fire, but I tried to play it cool. "We weren't in public," I sid with a roll of my eyes. "We were just outdoors."

"In a place of worship," he teased.

"_Abandoned_ place of worship," I emphasized.

He was giving me a look that I couldn't quite read and once again I felt my mind fill up with questions. _Do you remember everything? Our first 'I love you's and the ones we exchanged when we finally reconnected? The first time we had sex? Or the third time, when you gave me the first of many incredible orgasms? The last night we spent together where you promised me you'd be leaving for university the next morning but you would never leave me? _

_ How can you look at me like that and not want to kiss me...touch me...taste me?_

I put those thoughts out of my head. It was dangerous being here with Eli. It made me want things. But Eli was my past and I was perfectly happy here in the future.

I should have asked him to leave.

But I just...couldn't.

"So have you seen any good movies lately? It's been a while since I've seen anything foreign," I said, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

I couldn't help but notice a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes as he opened his mouth to respond. And as much as I knew I shouldn't, I couldn't help but wonder what that might mean.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Degrassi Tumblr: musiksnob / New personal Tumblr: musiksnobbery**

**I told you this wouldn't take long, but even I'm surprised by how easy it was to write this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for reading this fic, for putting up with my unanswered questions, and for being the world's greatest fans :) Reviews are always appreciated if you feel so inclined.  
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Chapter 4

**"And almost immediately I felt sorry 'cause I didn't think this would happen again." - Fuck and Run by Liz Phair**

I wouldn't have expected it, but after a while, sitting on my bed catching up with Eli started to feel completely comfortable. We had managed to veer away from personal topics, and had started discussing films and books and music – all the things we had once talked about incessantly when we had dated and before that when we were friends. It had been so long that we had so much to cover there were no awkward pauses in the conversation.

After a while, we'd both adjusted our positions so we were more comfortable, sitting fully on the bed next to each other, leaning against my propped up pillows. It gave us the flexibility to look at each other when the conversation called for it, or to look forward if things were starting to feel a little strange. But I had to admit the awkwardness had all but disappeared. We had even started punctuating our conversation with little touches – a soft punch on the arm when we disagreed or a light knee shake when one of us got excited about something. It had gotten to the point where I had started egging him on in a very familiar way to see what he would do next.

Part of me hoped that he would kiss me. I could turn him down, make him understand what rejection felt like. Or I could kiss him back and lose myself in him the way I desperately wanted to.

But I was too afraid to lose myself again.

"I can't believe you liked Momentum Fail," Eli groaned. "The pacing was atrocious and the special effects were terrible."

"It wasn't about the action," I argued. "It was about the love story. I'll admit the book was better than the movie, but it was really good."

"You're wrong," he said.

I screwed up my face in a frown. "I probably have the DVD somewhere around here. I should make you watch it."

"That won't be necessary. The movie sucked. And the video game they made based on it sucked even worse."

"You must have liked it a little bit if you played the video game," I challenged.

"My shitty first year roommate used to play it. I would never play a game that terrible."

"Suure," I joked. "I bet you played War Animal: Death Zone."

Eli looked like I had caught him doing something terrible. "How do you even know about that game, Ms. I Don't Even Know What an XBOX is?"

"My ex used to play it," I snapped. The words came out before I realized that this was the first time either of us had brought up a person we'd dated since our breakup. I snuck a look at him, but he seemed neither jealous nor surprised.

"Well he probably didn't play Momentum Fail because you're the only person on the planet who liked it, shitty roommate excepted."

I shook my head. "I wrote a review of it for the Degrassi Daily, and a few girls came up to me later and thanked me for recommending it."

"They let you review that piece of shit? I guess that's one benefit of being editor in chief. No one can turn down your bad ideas."

I looked down at my hands. "I wasn't editor in chief," I said softly.

"Wait, what?" He touched my arm to get me to look up at him. "What happened? I thought Katie had recommended you."

I looked back down again, unable to hold his gaze. "I missed a couple meetings at the beginning of the year. And Mr. Simpson said I was too unreliable, so he gave the spot to Liam."

"That must have sucked," he said carefully.

"Yeah," I said, in a voice that clearly told him I wasn't interested in talking about this any further.

It was hard to look back at my Grade 12 year. After Eli had left, I'd been miserable. It was all I could do to get through the school day so I could race home to chat with him on Skype. Most of his classes were at night and we'd barely had any time to talk to each other. I missed him tremendously and it seemed at first like he'd felt the same – but clearly that just wasn't true.

And then after he'd dumped me, it took me a while before I got myself back together again. My mother had to drag me to a psychiatrist who put me on a low dose of Lexapro before I could do more than just get myself out of bed every morning. My grades had fallen precipitously and I had to put in a lot of effort to catch up. I decided to just apply to my safety school Ryerson, and though I'd gotten accepted to the university with no problem, the School of Journalism had only given me a conditional approval, citing my lack of editorial experience and the fact that they couldn't corroborate my teachers' evaluations of my co-op because the Interpreter would only give them the dates of my employment.

I'd had to hustle to get more experience by taking over as news editor of the Daily from the girl who had lost interest, and had sent articles out to every online blog that posted guest columns that I could think of. By the time September had rolled around, I'd had two articles published by Huffington Post Canada and my persistence helped me earn a copy editing position on the campus weekly.

It took a little longer than I'd expected but I'd made something of myself. There was no point dwelling on missed opportunities.

I excused myself and let myself into the bathroom. My bladder felt like it was going to explode from all the wine and coffee, but it was the moment's pause that was the biggest relief. I took a few extra minutes to get my feelings back under control before returning.

Eli was typing something into his phone, but he put it in his pocket once he saw me re-enter the main room. I wondered if he was texting his girlfriend to let her know where he was and why he'd be late. He still hadn't mentioned a girlfriend or lack thereof and there was no way I was going to ask.

Eli looked around my studio again and I stiffened as I took my place next to him on the bed, expecting more jokes at my expense. But I was surprised to learn he had other thoughts on his mind. "You know, I could probably take some of these books off your hands. The English teachers are always lamenting the fact that they don't have budgets for classroom libraries, especially since our principal is a dickhead and got rid of the librarian and the books along with her."

"That's not a bad idea," I said, feeling awful for the kids going through school without recreational reading. "It'd get rid of some of the YA stuff at least."

"I'm sure Cece wouldn't mind taking some of the books for younger kids. She's still working at SickKids."

I felt kind of embarrassed that I hadn't thought of that before. I knew some of my colleagues donated their review copies, and some sold them to used bookstores to make some extra cash in an ethically questionable manner. There were a few books I would never part with, but I felt awful that the stacks surrounding my apartment could have been put to good use for all these years.

"Sure...I'll try to grab some boxes and send them along."

Eli started telling me everything that his parents were up to – vacations and career plans and futile begging for grandchildren. I was listening with interest, but I couldn't help but think that it was unfair that they had been such a part of my life and now they weren't at all.

"I'm sorry; I feel like I've been monopolizing the conversation," Eli said. "What have you been up to lately?" I was grateful that he changed the subject but at the same time, didn't really have an answer for him.

I shrugged. "Just work mostly. Keeps me busy and out of trouble."

"Have you been doing any creative writing? I like your reviews and articles and everything but you used to write such amazing stories."

There was a note of admiration in Eli's voice that made my heart quicken, just a little bit. I silently admonished myself for acting like a foolish schoolgirl. "Not in a long time," I said, feeling vaguely guilty that I had given up something that had once been important to me. For a year after our breakup I had churned out journals filled with angsty breakup poetry and stories about evil exes and lost loves. When I realized that I had never moved past that, that my writing felt empty and trite and that I had no idea how to fix it without my writing partner, I had almost given up.

But I'd written one more story, a novella of sorts. The content wasn't autobiographical by any means, but the emotions were. Jonathan had told me it was nice, after I had badgered him for weeks to read it, but couldn't offer me any specifics. My mother had suggested that I edit the language and have the main character attend church because she needed some forgiveness and community. My creative writing teacher had given me a B, with no other explanation than an announcement to the class that A's were only for exceptional writers and we shouldn't expect to receive them for effort alone.

I had mailed a copy to Darcy.

She had never responded.

A bubble of emotions that I was too upset to analyze rose within me and I choked back a sob, covering my mouth with my hands. "Clare, are you okay?" Eli asked in such a gentle, caring voice that he broke my resolve to hold everything back.

I jumped off the bed, and started frantically pawing through the stacks of paper that were piled upon my small filing cabinet. When I didn't find what I was looking for, I threw open the top drawer and started tossing files to the ground. Papers were cascading all over the place. I heard Eli get up from the bed and he placed his hand gently on my arm right at the moment that I found a familiar blue binder.

"Talk to me," he suggested, and I thrust the binder into his arms.

"I need you to read this," I said, my voice hysterical. "I need you to tell me if it's nice and unexceptional and if the main character is a mess that can't be fixed and I need you to tell me if it's even worth the paper it's written on and $15 dollars in postage because Darcy didn't bother to read it and now she's dead and I don't understand how someone could be so fucking selfish that she could leave me here for twelve fucking years and just die. Just like that. How fucking selfish is that?" I asked, and I knew immediately that Eli would understand. That Eli had always understood me, even when I didn't want him to.

He gripped the binder tightly in one hand but wrapped the other around me and led me back to the bed, gingerly stepping over the new wreckage I had added to the floor. "Clare," he said gently, pulling me into a hug as I wept on his shoulder for the second time today.

"I hate her," I sobbed. "I hate her for leaving me. I was a dumb 14 year old kid in a Catholic school uniform and she went off to Africa and didn't even tell me anything. What's the point in having a big sister if she doesn't tell you to wear normal clothes and to date guys who won't break your hearts?"

"I don't know," he said gently in my ear. "I'm an only child." I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood but for some reason, it only made me feel worse. I wasn't an only child, but now I had a dead sister.

"The thing that bothers me most..." I paused for a second to allow myself to catch my breath. "Is that this really doesn't change anything. I haven't talked to her in years; I haven't seen her in over a decade."

His hand reached up and caressed my cheek in a gentle, soothing manner. "But it does change things. It eliminates the possibility that you or she could do something about it. And that's a really hard thing to give up on."

"I miss her," I whimpered, giving in to the hysterical sobs again.

His arms tightened around me, and he just whispered, "I know...it's okay," over and over into my hair.

"I don't even know if she was happy," I said as I pressed my cheek against his collarbone.

"I'm sure she was. I don't think anyone could have dedicated that many years to something if they didn't love it."

I tried to recall the last time I had spoken to her. It was before I had sent her the story; I knew that for sure, since the purpose of the call was to ask if she had a new address she could give us, since her last letter had been returned. I wondered if it was possible that I had misheard her – her satellite phone had never had a good connection – and that she had never received my story. At the time I'd assumed that since my earlier letter was returned, she had received the story or else I would have gotten that back as well. But perhaps I was wrong; perhaps she had never gotten it or known of its existence.

It would have meant that I'd cut off contact with my sister without cause.

The thought caused a new torrent of tears and when I explained my theory to Eli, he immediately dismissed it. "Even if that's true, she could have called you. She could have found a computer somewhere and emailed you. You both made choices that I know you regret. But you can't blame yourself."

I closed my eyes. "When will I stop? Blaming myself, I mean."

His shoulders tensed and I looked up at him. "Probably never," he admitted.

"Thanks for that. That's just great." The tears were starting to dry up a little. It was easier to be annoyed at Eli than it was to deal with what was really at stake.

He gave me a soft smile. "I'm not going to lie to you. After Julia died, I got bullshit platitudes from teachers and counselors and every adult I had ever met and none of it ever made me feel better." He chuckled. "Cece even bought me a copy of _The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning_."

"Seriously?" I couldn't help but laugh.

He shrugged. "She was out of all other ideas by that point. I was pretty messed up."

"I can imagine." I had seen Eli go through some crazy things before, and given how he'd reacted, I was sort of glad I hadn't met him until after he had gone through the worst of the mourning phase.

"You'll get through this," he promised. "It'll never go away but it'll get easier." I raised an eyebrow at him. "That's the closest I'll get to platitudes, I swear."

"Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful to him. "Thank you for rescuing me from that God-awful funeral and for staying with me and listening and just being here. I don't even know what I would have done if I were alone right now."

"It's no problem, Clare." He was staring into my eyes and I was so tempted to lean forward and kiss him. Just to see what it would be like.

But he would reject me...and I couldn't handle any more pain right now.

I dabbed my eyes on the shoulder of my dress as best I could and flopped back on the bed. I knew my face would be all red and blotchy. Eli leaned over me a little bit and brushed a tear off my cheek. "Do you have any tissues?" he asked, and with his fingers touching my face I was unable to give a very complete answer.

"Nightstand," I mumbled, simultaneously relieved and frustrated when he moved away to retrieve them. I closed my eyes and tried to get myself to stop thinking about him that way.

It wasn't until I heard a very loud, very Eli cackle that I opened my eyes. To my horror, he was holding a very private, very purple vibrator. "Well well well," he said as I gaped at him. "I never would have thought that Clare Edwards would be a lover of sex toys."

"Give me that," I said angrily, swiping at him. Eli had never been tall and hadn't grown since I'd last seen him but he had just enough height on me that he was able to keep it out of my hands. "You were supposed to get the tissues that were _on _the nightstand."

"I didn't see any," he claimed, and a quick glance confirmed that the box was buried under a stack of documents and books. "But I did find your fake plastic cock."

"I hate you," I squealed, grabbing his arm and trying to get it out of his hands. This was the most humiliating thing that had happened to me since the time a very similar looking vibrator was found in my schoolbag by Mr. Armstrong. In fact, it was Alli herself who had sent this to me as a gag gift, after my breakup with Jonathan, noting that she had selected this model for nostalgic reasons.

He reached up and turned the base and a loud buzzing sound could be heard. "Ahh, fresh batteries," he joked. "This thing must get a lot of use."

"I haven't had sex in two years; of course it gets a lot of use," I growled at him. I pushed him back onto the bed with all of my might and climbed on top of him, trying to trap his hand in a position where I could grab it.

It turned out I didn't need to go that far, because at my statement, Eli dropped the vibrator onto my bed and gaped at me. "Two years? Holy shit, that sucks."

"Thanks a lot," I said, climbing off and sitting next to him, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Hey, we've all been there," he said, trying to be generous. "Some slumps are worse than others."

I doubted Eli had ever had a slump. He'd probably bedded a different woman every night since we broke up. I bet the only time he went without sex for two years was between Julia and me – and that was only because I wanted to wait for marriage for most of that.

Although knowing Eli, he wasn't a different-girl-every-night kind of guy. He liked being in relationships. He liked falling in love. He just wasn't good at maintaining it.

I heard the buzzing again and shot him a glare as he picked up the toy again. "You know, they have better models than this. Much more discreet."

"If it had stayed in my nightstand, it wouldn't have needed to be so discreet." He continued looking at it in bemusement. "Can you stop?" I asked in annoyance.

He smirked at me, a classic Eli smirk, and I pounced. I had him pushed back against the pillows with his hands up beside his head. I noticed that he dropped the vibrator, but at this point I wasn't going to let him get away with it. I shoved his chest once before I remembered how ticklish he was and started a surprise attack on his sides.

"Stop!" he giggled, writhing underneath me, bringing his hands up to try to halt mine. I had the advantage for a few moments but Eli was stronger and he managed to capture my wrists.

I was straddling him and leaning over him and he was holding my hands and I realized that he was hard underneath me, and in that moment, I couldn't hold back.

I leaned down and kissed him.

It took a second for him to respond but he did, moving his lips against mine deliberately, in a familiar yet long-lost way. But his hands released my wrists and gently found my face, pushing me away from him.

"Clare," he gasped. "We can't do this."

"Yes we can," I said, trying to break out his his grasp to kiss him again. He tried to hold firm, but his resistance was weak.

His hands moved down to my rib cage and I thought that might be the end of his opposition but he managed to wriggle his mouth away from mine.

"We can't," he repeated, already out of breath. "This is not a good idea for so many reasons."

"Name one," I challenged, applying a little more pressure with my hips.

"You're grieving," he said, and I knew I had him. Since his first response wasn't "I have a girlfriend," it meant that I'd be able to convince him.

"I want this," I said, using the sexiest voice I possessed as I trailed my hand down his chest.

"You're just feeling lonely," he said. He picked up the vibrator once again. "I should go home and you can use this and you won't hate me in the morning."

I took the vibrator out of his hands and tossed it aside. "Eli...I want you."

I leaned down and kissed the delicate skin of his neck, sucking at just the right point. I hadn't forgotten Eli's turn ons the in years since we'd broken up. He let out a little moan and I grinned against his skin. But when I sat up a little to kiss his lips again, I saw his eyes still harbored some hesitation.

"If you don't want this," I said, kissing him once more, slowly and deeply. "Tell." I nipped his earlobe, right where his piercing had been once upon a time. "Me." I kissed the other side of his neck, mirroring my prior actions. "To." I wiggled a little in his lap, easily feeling him against me through the fabric of his dress pants. "Stop," I finished, emphasizing the last word. I took his hand and placed it on my breast as I kissed him once more.

His tongue reached out to greet mine and I knew all arguments were over.

It was easy to get swept away by Eli. He was still the most talented of any guy I had kissed. And my decided lack of sexual contact meant that I was desperate for everything to happen right this moment. I made quick work of his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, frustrated that I wasn't more adept at unbuttoning and kissing at the same time. He made no move to shrug out of it, and his hands were moving up and down my back, lazily reaching down to grab my ass after taking the most circuitous route.

I knew Eli probably thought I was still the timid girl who let him lead in every sexual encounter. But the truth was that when I started Jonathan at the end of my first year of university, I'd learned that I was his first girlfriend – and first kiss. And in that relationship, he was the timid one. After waiting a month for him to make any move beyond some nice but frustrating french kissing, I had taken off my shirt for him, and placed his hand on my bra. Every step after that, I was the one to initiate. He had joked afterwards that the first time he went down on me I had given him so many instructions that I had sounded like a video game cheat code. Even after we had been sleeping together for a while, I was always the one suggesting sex, choosing positions, and making sure that I got off before he did.

So it wasn't difficult for me to take the lead here, pulling my dress over my head while I silently said a prayer of thanks that my undergarments weren't too embarrassing. Since I wasn't expecting this encounter, it was good luck that I'd finished my period over a week prior and didn't have on old, gross panties. Then again, this was Eli, who had previously dated me back when my mother bought most of my undergarments in packs of five from Zellers, and though I'm sure he hadn't loved it, he had never had any complaints.

Eli was enthusiastically returning my kisses and his hands had returned to my breasts, but he wasn't making any overtures to take things further. I could tell he was enjoying himself from his small moans and murmurs, from his staccato breaths, and the way his hands moved over me. After removing his shirt the rest of the way, I unhooked my bra, and while he seemed appreciative of the feeling of my skin and even moved his head down to lick and suck my nipples, this foreplay seemed to satisfy him, while it only intensified my frustration.

I had one trick up my sleeve. The first time we'd dated I'd been so shy sexually that I'd only gone down on him maybe three times. I preferred intercourse and – possibly because I was so untalented – so did he. And Jonathan hadn't known any better, so I'd appeased him just a few times before introducing sex to him. But when I'd met Michael – a colleague at the newspaper who worked in the business department – things were different. He was nearly ten years older than me at 33, and he'd had plenty of experience – unlike Jonathan and even Eli, who had only slept with Julia. Our relationship had been casual, but the sex had been incredible, and he had taught me things that I had previously only heard about in magazines. He had loved oral sex – giving and receiving – and I had willingly accommodated him, learning to enjoy it as much as he had.

I could see the surprise in Eli's eyes as I'd shimmied down his body, unfastening his pants and giving him a brief squeeze through his boxers. He closed his eyes and stammered, "Is this a good idea?"

"You tell me," I said, removing his clothes quickly so he wouldn't change his mind. I settled between his legs and took him into my mouth.

I shot a look at him and Eli was both surprised and enraptured, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of my mouth surrounding him. "Oh God, Clare," he moaned.

I smirked, enjoying that I had gotten the atheist to call out to God in a moment of sheer pleasure. My head bobbed over him, and I could feel myself throbbing with anticipation. To Eli's groan of disappointment, I removed him from my mouth and stopped to discard my underwear. I climbed over his leg to give him more access and before I resumed my activity, I demanded, "Put your fingers inside me."

I waited until he had completed my request before continuing and was rewarded with a loud moan. I had trouble controlling my own noises as Eli's fingers swirled inside me and over my clit.

Maybe I had thought I'd known from the beginning where I was taking this, but as I clenched around his fingers, I knew that this wouldn't be enough. I'd wanted a kiss, I'd wanted his hands on me, but now, all I wanted to was to feel him inside me.

This time, when I took him out of my mouth, Eli didn't seem disappointed. I swung my leg over his body and gazed into his eyes. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

There was a moment of conflict but then he relaxed. "I can't," he whispered. "I want you."

And without any hesitation, I sank down onto him.

For a moment, it was actually uncomfortable. Two years without sex had apparently left me feeling a little bit virginal down there and for a second, a few doubts crept into my mind. But Eli had apparently grown comfortable with me taking the lead and allowed me to start off very slowly.

"I've dreamed about this," he admitted, his voice filled with pleasure. "But I never thought I'd get to be with you again." He touched my face in a gentle, romantic gesture and I knew that no matter what happened, I would never regret this moment.

I felt like Eli and I were recreating our sexual history. The awkward, gentleness of first-time learning led to fast and furious thrusting. He rolled me over and I allowed him to pound into me, my legs stretched over his shoulders for a few minutes before pushing him back to the bed and resuming my dominant position. I dug my fingers into his back and cried out as he and I moved together in perfect synchronization.

Eli held me in place so that I was sitting up over him, allowing me to control the pace though his hips thrust up to meet me. He reached up and tugged on my nipple, harder than he'd ever had before – clearly not worried about breaking or offending me. "It's been two years," he said, his voice startling me since Eli usually limited himself to the world's sexiest moans. "How badly do you need to come?"

"Oh fuck," I said, his words practically getting me there on their own. "So badly. So fu-."

He interrupted my sentence by turning on the forgotten vibrator and pressing it between my legs as I rode him. I screamed as it instantly brought me over the edge, and I gave him fast, deep thrusts in reward. He followed me quickly, and thank goodness for that because the vibration was so intense that I knew I couldn't last much longer.

For a moment, I forgot who we were and when this was. I leaned down and gave him the most passionate and loving kiss that I could, entwining our fingers together. But when I opened my eyes, I remembered.

He was Eli. I was Clare.

And he had broken my heart.

I climbed off him as quickly as I could without letting on how my feelings had changed. But clearly something had shifted because the sexy heat was gone and all we were left with was awkwardness.

As I grasped for something to say that would repair this moment, I realized that this encounter bore more of an emotional resemblance to the very last time I had sex than the beautiful love-making I had experienced with Eli back in high school. At a journalism conference in Seattle, I had met Jeffrey, a reporter from the Chicago Tribune, who had charmed me with his good looks and intelligent humor. After three nights of drinks and hot elevator makeouts, I had finally agreed to his entreaty to join him back in his room. But steamy kisses had turned into tepid sex, and I'd ended up feeling more like an outlet than a woman he desired – a feeling which was corroborated by his declaration that he had an early flight in the morning and it was best if I went back to my own room. I was so inexperienced that I had made a comment about keeping in touch with had resulting in a look of pity so blinding that I'd had to look away.

I had promised myself that would be my one and only one night stand.

And now I'd had another, with someone it could never be just one night with.

Eli had been lying next to me in a daze and it jolted me out of my thoughts when I felt his arm wrap around my waist.

"I feel like I don't know you anymore," he said softly. "But I want to."

I was feeling like I didn't know myself anymore either. So I let Eli hold me while I tried to shut off my brain enough to go to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Degrassi Tumblr: musiksnob / New personal Tumblr: musiksnobbery**

**New short chapter! Yeay! I have no idea when I'll be able to update next as Hurricane Sandy is bearing down on us, and we have not had very good lucky with similar storms in the past.  
**

**And thanks again for all of your support of this fic. I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope that continues despite the fact that you'll have to wait a long time for answers to your many questions.**

* * *

Chapter Five

"**Cause when I look around, I think this, this is good enough. And I try to laugh at whatever life brings. Cause when I look down I just miss all the good stuff. When I look up, I just trip over things." As Is by Ani DiFranco**

I woke up to the daylight softly filtering through my blinds, rather than the blare of my alarm clock. I enjoyed the relaxing moment for about 20 seconds before I remembered three incontrovertible truths.

Darcy was dead.

I'd had sex with Eli last night.

I was completely naked.

I startled up in bed, grasping the soft fleece blanket that Eli must have used to cover me at some point last night. I glanced around but his side of the bed was empty – though the fact that half of the blanket messily covered his side proved that he had in fact stayed for at least a while. I couldn't see into the bathroom from my bed, but after waiting a minute and not hearing any noise, I determined that Eli was no longer here.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

My reprieve lasted only a few seconds before I glanced at the clock and realized it was nine a.m. "Shit," I said aloud, jumping out of bed. I wrapped the blanket around me even though Eli wasn't there, almost as if I didn't see my naked body I could pretend that nothing had happened. I hobbled over to my closet and realized that there was no way I could just get dressed and hop on the train to work. I was sticky with sweat and sex and I couldn't live with Eli's touch emblazoned on my skin any longer.

I waited until the water was hot before dropping the blanket but I couldn't help but take a glimpse in the mirror. I rubbed the red mark on my neck and sighed. "Really, Eli? We're not sixteen anymore." I tried to push out of my mind the fact that last night when he nibbled on my neck, it made me moan and writhe against him.

I stayed in the shower much longer than I should have, knowing I was already late for work, but realizing that once I left the water's warm embrace I'd have to start dealing with reality again.

It wasn't until I had given my hair a quick blow dry, dressed myself in a skirted suit and plain blouse, and gathered my papers and books I needed to bring with me that I noticed the note, lying next to my blackberry. I had plugged it in yesterday while Eli and I were talking, right after I had turned it to silent once the service at the cemetery had ended and my mother had started calling incessantly. I checked the phone first and cringed at the number of missed calls. I would have to call her back after work but I wasn't looking forward to it.

I slipped the phone into the pocket of my blazer and picked up the note, marked with my name on the outside and folded in half.

_Clare,_

_ So sorry to sneak out on you this morning. I used a personal day to attend the funeral, but I couldn't miss another day of work. I thought about waking you up to say goodbye, but you looked peaceful and I'm pretty sure you're not getting enough sleep._

_I texted myself from your phone so I'd have your number and added mine to your list. I will call you later. But if you need me before that, you've got my number._

_ Last night was everything I've wanted for a very long time. I hope you feel the same way._

_ Eli_

I snorted. Apparently when you're trying to avoid talking to your ex-boyfriend that you've just had sex with, it's easy to get a full 14 hours of sleep.

I couldn't even deal with the rest of his note. That feeling only increased when I noticed that the binder with my story that had been cast aside during our sexual encounter was no longer here, and Eli had obviously taken it home with him.

I tucked the note into my nightstand drawer, grabbed my laptop case and hustled out the door, getting to the lobby before I remembered that my car was stranded at the church. I didn't typically drive to work – the TTC was more convenient – but I didn't want to leave it there any longer.

I was about to hail a cab, since the bus would take forever, but remembered again that I was low on money. I ducked into the nearest corner pharmacy and paid a huge premium to take out some cash at the ATM, grabbed a cab and was at my car in less than 15 minutes. I looked around, saying a silent prayer of thanks that my mother wasn't stationed there with her disapproving looks.

I strolled into work a full two hours late, much to the surprise of my coworkers. I gave them brief smiles and casual waves as I strode into my office, setting up my laptop in its dock. I had specifically left instructions that the funeral and viewing were limited to close family only, not wanting a parade of writers and editors to attend in order to prove themselves to me. Ever since Michael and I had ended things, I had kept my work life and private life completely separate, even pulling away from Nicole, the sharp finance editor, who had once been my best friend. Apparently, she had listened to my edict; I hadn't noticed her in the sparse crowd at Darcy's funeral.

My boss followed me and closed the door behind him. "How are you doing, Clare?" Jared Harrington was middle-aged and balding, but he had a joyous smile that always made him look younger than his years, but I noted with disappointment that his smile was missing.

"I'm fine, sir," I said. "I'm sorry I'm so late. Just had a few things to finish up at home."

"You don't need to be here at all," he said. "The paper is very generous in its bereavement policies and you've only taken two days off, and spent a large portion of that working from home."

"I'm just trying to get us set for Friday's edition. A few of our planned articles had fallen through so we're really coming up against deadline."

He waved his hand. "Nothing to worry about. Lifestyles needs more space this week. Apparently a whole bunch of American celebrities who were popular in the 90s picked this week to stage their comeback publicity tour. There were some nasty paparazzi fist fights and I think someone exposed their genitals on the red carpet at the Kids' Choice Awards."

I grimaced. The Book Review only came out as a separate section on Wednesdays and Sundays, though we had articles in the arts and entertainment section on the other days. It seemed like more and more of our column inches were getting usurped by inane features on celebrities. Children's features were usually first to be pushed whenever an "emergency" came up, but the lifestyles editor's opinion on what was an emergency greatly conflicted with mine.

"Great, so I guess they are bumping the Jenny Han profile."

He nodded. "I've got some room in Monday's. Pete Hemphill threw a diva fit and wouldn't answer any of Joanie's questions about the reception of his latest mystery. We're just going to pull the piece."

"Thanks," I said. Jared had always done a good job of looking out for my writers. "I need to fix this mess with Jerry and Levi Hanselman. His latest picturebook is gorgeous and if it wins a Caldecott and we don't have a preview of it, we'll look like idiots."

Jared shook his head. "Do you want me to call him? His editor and I go way back."

Jared had never offered to run interference with an author before. I felt like he was babying me because of Darcy's death, and it made me feel awful. He had always treated me with respect, giving me the space I needed to get my section done and the support I needed when the head honchos tried to cut my coverage. "I can handle it," I said sternly.

Jared nodded, but I could tell he looked frustrated. "I told Christine to finish the edits on the reviews for Sunday. It's the least we can do. Lighten your load just a little."

I scowled. Christine was an excellent writer and interviewer but she was terrible at editing. She was too afraid to make changes to other people's works, for fear of offending them. "Just tell her to send them to me," I sighed. "I'd have to do a second round anyway. She lets people get away with the weakest ledes."

"Fine," Jared acquiesced. "But Clare, if you need anything…just let me know." He stood up and walked toward the door before turning back to me. "My first wife died, you know," he said gently.

"I'm sorry," I said, my tone probably too curt to sound sympathetic, but I just wanted this conversation to be over.

"So if you need someone to talk to…"

"I'll take that under advisement," I said, making it clear that I would do no such thing.

Jared nodded in understanding. "I gave Lucy Edmonds your email. She wants to do a piece on fashion choices in this year's YA releases."

"I'll keep my eye out for it," I said, turning to my computer and effectively ending the conversation.

Jared must have spread the word that I wasn't in the mood for conversation, because the only person who approached my office door was Angela, my assistant, who was always my least favourite person to deal with. But she brought me enough articles to proof and kept people out of my voicemail, so she made herself useful for once.

At lunchtime, I avoided the crowded breakroom and grabbed a sandwich from the vending machine on my way back from the ladies' washroom. I hunkered down at my desk, plowing through the backlog of emails. I didn't look up until I heard Angela's cough from my doorway.

"I was just wondering if you had anything else you needed me to do," she asked sweetly, and I looked at the clock. 5:30 already. The assistants weren't supposed to leave before the editors but I tended to work so late that Angela had complained to HR; the two other editors she worked for barely made it to five most days, coasting until the paper would offer another buyout that would allow them to retire early. We had come to a compromise that she could leave as long as she made sure I didn't need her.

I had asked her to stay late only once in the past two years.

"No, I'm fine, Angela. You can go."

I expected her to walk off with her shrill "Goodnight!" but when she didn't leave, I looked back up at her.

"Yes?"

"I'm really sorry about your sister," she said, in the most genuine tone I had heard from anyone in the past few days.

My cell phone buzzed, and I looked down at it. "I'm sorry. I have to take this."

She lowered her head and nodded. "Goodnight, Clare," she said without affect, neither the gentle, supportive tone nor her usual chirp.

I opened the text message, feeling dread in the pit of my stomach. It was from Eli.

_When can I see you again?_

I stared at the screen for a full minute.

I hit delete.

I turned back to my computer.


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Twitter: themusiksnob / Degrassi Tumblr: musiksnob / New personal Tumblr: musiksnobbery**

**Well, I was very fortunate Hurricane-wise this time. I don't have power at home but my mother does, and she was not wiped out by floodwaters this time, so we are cooped up at her house, safe and warm. I'm hoping the rest of you are fairing as well, though I know some of you are suffering without power. Hoping that everyone is okay and that your personal damages are minimal. As a Jersey girl myself, I am heartbroken by the pictures of the destruction of the shore. I know a lot of you have only experienced it through the ridiculous MTV show (and I have only experienced it through the eyes of a Benny), but it is a marvelous place and it's going to take a lot to rebuild.**

**Hugs to Erin, Heather, Alex and Taylor and everyone else dealing with the ravages of the storm.**

****PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTE AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER.****

* * *

Chapter 6

"**I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand. But I keep living this day like the next will never come." Criminal by Fiona Apple**

"I'm so sick of writing reviews of mutant zombie animal books," Elissa groaned. "I almost wish vampires would come back into fashion so I can read something different for once."

At that, the group around the conference table broke out into loud disagreement. I could hear people reciting the names of my favourite YA books from when I was actually a teenager, "Twilight," and "Fortnight," and "Shiver." Although I was more widely read now, I still had a lot of affection for cheesy teen romance novels and I had actually received a lot of praise for including coverage of books that were more appealing to teenagers than just the highbrow stuff that adults wanted them to like.

"Guys, come on," I said after giving them a few minutes to hash out their arguments. "We've got a lot to get through. We haven't even started pitches, and I have a big announcement."

Andrew Neilson, a staff writer who was sitting to my left, eyed a pile of books in front of me. "Is that the new Scott Westerfeld?"

Silence broke out in the room as everyone sat at attention. Most of our brief reviews were farmed out to freelancers, but for big titles, the staff writers handled them unless we secured an author in the field to take it on. The nice thing about working for the book department was that we were all avid readers, and a pre-pub book by a major author was something we eagerly looked forward to.

"That is the new Scott Westerfeld. Finished copy and all, three weeks in advance. Reviews are embargoed til pub date. No ARCs. Anybody want it?" I teased, fully knowing that there would be a few people dying to read this since no advanced copies had been printed.

"Um, me," Andrew said and Elissa and Cortney waved their hands enthusiastically.

"Andrew, you're five days past deadline on the Marks book," I admonished and he groaned as I took him out of contention. "And Cortney, I believe you won the last auction for the Cassandra Clare book."

"Boo," Cortney said, as Elissa cheered when I slid the book over to her. She held the book to her chest in a hug.

To be nice, I passed Cortney and Andrew each a debut book that I had previewed and knew they would either enjoy reading them or picking them apart.

"Alright, get me those reviews one week before pub date. Who's got ideas for November?" Our monthly pitch meetings took place a little over a month in advance. We'd plan out the major features and dole out assignments. Not everything we came up with in this meeting would pan out and there were always emergency features, such as obituaries for major authors who died or breaking industry news, but this was how we outlined the major stories we'd cover.

"I think we need to do something on the emergence of red and white picture books. There have been a few this year, the Raschka and the Wong in particular," Lisa suggested.

I narrowed my eyes. "I like the concept but what's the focus?"

"Single color books are cheaper to print?" She shrugged.

I shook my head. "Dig deeper. There could be something but it's not there yet. Tony?"

"All I'm seeing are picture books about Thanksgiving."

"Well that really doesn't help us, considering our Thanksgiving is a full month earlier. Andrew?"

"Jon Scieszka has a new middle grade series coming out. Skews a little older than his previous titles. Humor, boy appeal."

"Perfect," I said, scouring my planner. "Let's slot it for the second Wednesday. Good timing for Christmas shoppers looking for ideas. You want it?"

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"Better get me that review," I said, wagging my finger at him in a teasing manner.

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned. "Friday, I swear."

"Tomorrow, I swear," I responded. My blackberry buzzed and for a moment my heart stopped. But when I checked the text I saw it was from one of my freelancers, telling me that they'd be emailing their latest review in two hours.

Eli had texted me non-stop for two weeks after our...reunion. But though I had read each one over and over, I hadn't responded. It had been two weeks since I'd last heard from him.

He had apparently gotten the message.

"Um...Elissa?" I asked, trying to get my head back into the meeting.

"I'm having trouble getting sources for the Australian crossover authors piece. The time zone thing is kicking my ass. Any chance we can push that a few weeks? I can do something quick about Orca's new reluctant reader series in its place."

I pursed my lips. "When was that one for?" I flipped through my planner. After the pitch meetings I typed up the scheduled articles and who we had assigned them to in order to sync them with my computer calendar and blackberry but for meetings, I preferred to have things penciled in for quick changes. I flipped back to October's calendar. "The 25th?" I asked. My penmanship was flawless but I had apparently changed so many things on that date that it was hard to see what was written there through the eraser marks.

"Yeah. I could get it done for the third Sunday no problem."

"That would be...okay," I said slowly. I was staring at a notation on the calendar for the 12th, a circle around the date that indicated that my period would be due.

A date that was less than two weeks away.

With a sinking heart, I turned back to September's calendar. September 14th was also circled. But it was missing the X that signified that my period had arrived.

It was September 30th.

"Clare?"

I looked up and noticed that everyone was staring at me and Andrew had leaned over a touched my sleeve. "You okay?" he asked again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I smiled to reassure them. "I just remembered I have some proofs to finish. Don't want to hold up the press," I joked.

The meeting continued and I let the other writers and editors discuss their pitches, for once allowing them to argue amongst themselves about the relative merits of their article ideas. I just kept staring at my calendar, a feeling of dread settling in my stomach. After about a half an hour, it seemed like we had enough to go on for the major articles and everyone had their assignments to distribute.

"Great job, guys," I said, trying to keep myself from revealing my inner panic.

"Clare, you said you had important news to tell us," Cortney reminded me as everyone paused in gathering their laptops and notebooks.

It took me a second to remember what she was referring to. "Oh...right. It's big news," I said, gesturing for everyone to take their seats.

"We have the cover story for the December 16th edition," I announced and I could see a few raised eyebrows. Children's rarely earned the cover unless J.K. Rowling or another superstar wrote a new book. It was the one thing that Jared and I battled on. I would argue that children's and young adult books were outselling adults books and deserved more space and more prestige, and he would suggest that we were in the business of peddling "quality" books and not bestsellers. I'd list seven books that were better than anything the adult publishers were churning out but he'd claim that the new Philip Roth took precedence.

"What, did Jonathan Franzen miss a deadline?" Christine joked and everyone laughed, even Jerry, who wrote for both departments.

"No," I said, enjoying the brief moment of levity. "But it's the 50th anniversary of _Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret._" I could see smiles on the faces of all the women in the room, knowing we were all recounting our own 12 year old reading of that novel and her others.

"50 years?" Andrew scoffed. "Is there anything more to write about that book?"

"Well, I wanted to do something special. So I proposed that we do a feature on Judy Blume and her legacy, focusing on _Margaret_ and a few other key titles. And I got the powers that be to agree to send a reporter down to Key West to spend three days with Judy Blume, sitting in with her in her daily life, doing a very detailed interview with her on her life and works, including criticism of her books." I smiled at them, as every face in the room looked back at me with an impressed expression. It had been a long time since the paper had agreed to pay for travel in order to get a story in the Book Review department. "We're talking a potential 10,000 word feature."

Elissa whistled. "That's _New Yorker_ length." We got so few column inches that a thousand word interview was worthy of celebration in our world.

"Is Judy Blume on board with that?" Jerry asked skeptically.

I grinned. Although getting Jared and the people who held the purse-strings on board had been difficult, I considered this to be my greatest accomplishment. "I sent Judy some sample interview questions and she liked them. She gets asked the same ten things over and over again and she thought our take was unique."

"Wow," Christine said. "Judy Blume...she must be getting up there, isn't she?"

"She's 82," I confirmed.

"So who gets it?" Elissa asked.

I shrugged. "Who wants it?" I expected every hand to shoot up but the women were so emphatic that the men lowered their hands, knowing they wouldn't have a chance against women who had idolized Blume for fifteen to forty years. But that still left Christine, Elissa, Cortney, and a few other candidates who were lower on the totem pole in terms of seniority. My pick was Christine, but I could let them discuss it for a bit to make it seem like a democratic decision.

Elissa and Cortney immediately began a "Who's the bigger fan?" argument.

"I've even read her adult books," Cortney said.

"I grew up in New Jersey," Elissa emphasized. "Half of her books are set there."

But Christine, who was between them, immediately put an end to the argument. "Clare, it should be you."

At her words, Elissa and Cortney deflated, apparently deciding they weren't going to win. "She's right," Elissa said. "It was your questions that got us the interview in the first place."

"And Clare does the best profiles," Christine said.

"You do," Cortney confirmed. "Florida in December! I'm so jealous."

"Are you sure?" As proud as I was to have procured such a prestigious article my inclination was always to look out for my staff, not myself. It would be an amazing experience and possibly a life-changing article for me. I had pages of notes back in my office to go through to formulate a plan for the interview and I'd need to pick up copies of the books in her backlist that I didn't already own. I knew I had a few back at my mother's house from my own teenage years but there were some that had been printed in edited editions and I'd need to get both to analyze the differences.

I was so wrapped up in planning that I completely neglected the meeting and my writers' feelings. But it appeared everyone was on board. They gathered up their things again and started to file out. Andrew clapped me on the shoulder. "Great job, Clare. That's quite a coup for the paper. Can't wait to read it."

Christine was the last person left. "That's amazing, Clare. She was my favourite author as a kid. Loved Superfudge."

I had to be honest with her. "I was going to recommend you for the article. Are you sure you don't want it?"

She laughed. "Oh, I want it, alright. But you deserve it, fearless leader."

"Thank you," I said, her appreciation lifting my spirits. In the two years since I had been made editor, I had really tried to cultivate a good working relationship with my writers and it was always nice to have that affirmed.

She turned back at the door. "Oh and if you need a very expensive assistant to travel with you and transcribe your tapes, I'm your girl," she joked.

"I'd take you over Angela any day," I said, joining her on the walk back to the bay where the writers' desks were before heading back to my office.

I forced myself to go through the meeting notes and put the assignments into my computer, even though I knew I could feign sick and have Angela do it for me. But as soon as I was finished, I could no longer delay the inevitable. I grabbed my laptop case and light jacket and walked over to Angela's desk.

"I'm heading out," I said.

Her eyes widened as she glanced at the clock and realized it was only 4 p.m. "Is everything okay?" she asked. The only time in the last four years that I had left before her was the day I had gotten the call from Mom that Darcy had died and I had gone to her house to support her as she fell apart.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Just going out to do some research for the Judy Blume piece."

"Right," she smirked, as if there was no way I would leave early for non-work reasons. "See you tomorrow."

"Goodbye," I called, halfway out the door. I was hoping to escape before anyone else saw me.

I hopped on the light-rail, and managed to get a seat; leaving before rush hour apparently had benefits. But I was too distracted to enjoy it by pulling out my kindle and diving into the book I had barely been able to put down to sleep last night.

I was trying not to let myself get too worked up. Like every other sexually active woman on the planet, it wouldn't be the first time I'd needed to take a pregnancy test. The last time was back in university when a late period had made me nervous. I had tried to hide my worry from Jonathan but he could tell something was wrong. Once I had admitted the truth, he's been completely supportive, saying all the right things about getting through this together. He'd accompanied me to the drug store to buy the test, and hovered outside the bathroom, waiting for the result. The test had said it would take two minutes to complete, but after one, a single line appeared. I continued watching it, holding my breath for the next minute, fearful that the second line would arrive to form the plus sign, indicating a positive test. But it never appeared and the look of relief on my face was the only thing Jonathan needed to see before pulling me into his arms and whispering, "Thank God."

But I knew that being two weeks late was a far cry from being three days late. And I knew that a late pill was a lot less likely to cause a pregnancy than the completely unprotected sex I'd had with Eli.

Fuck. I was always Ms. Responsible when it came to sex. After my first few times with Eli, I'd gotten on the pill to supplement the condoms. A few years into dating Jonathan I had let the pill suffice, but aside from a few times with Michael when we didn't have a condom handy, we'd always used two methods. I'd never had sex without any protection before. What was wrong with me? If I had been smart, I would have stayed on the pill despite my two years of celibacy, but of course, I thought I was too intelligent to make a bad decision about sex. Clearly not.

As I stopped by the pharmacy near my apartment, I realized with some horror that I had been in this very place after sleeping with Eli, getting money out of the ATM. If I had half a brain, I would have stopped at the pharmacy counter and gotten the morning after pill.

If I had any sense, I wouldn't have slept with Eli at all.

I picked up a First Response, since that was the brand I had used last time and it had served me well. Despite the fact that I was in my 20s, the last few times I had purchased condoms I had always included another item or two in the transaction so I didn't feel awkward, but I must have grown up since then because I plunked the test down at the cast register with nary a pack of gum.

The merchant didn't even bat an eye.

By the time I arrived back in my apartment, my steely veneer had crumbled. My hands shook as I unwrapped the plastic and my bladder was shy as I hovered over the toilet, apparently too terrified to help me learn the result. For the first time in years, I lamented the sweet, kind Jonathan who had stood outside my door the last time I'd taken a pregnancy test, and wondered what my life would be like if I had accepted his proposal, if I had followed him to Vancouver.

Maybe I would be taking a pregnancy test hoping for a different result.

With one last prayer, I managed to follow the test's instructions, holding it underneath me for ten seconds. I placed the test down on the counter to give myself a chance to fix myself up, but when I looked up a few seconds later, I already had a response.

Positive.

I closed my eyes tightly and opened them again, hoping that I had misread the results. But the blue plus sign was clear; there was no doubt. I was pregnant.

I fell to my knees on the ratty bathmat and covered my face with my hands. For the first time since Eli had last held me in his arms, I allowed myself to weep.

* * *

**So, we've arrived at the Degrasi fanfiction cliché. I know some of you are cursing my name in anger, and some of you are squealing with excitement (and most of you already figured out this was coming – good eye to the reviewers who noticed I didn't mention contraception, when I ALWAYS do in my other fics).**

**I always swore that I would never write a pregnancy fic personally but this one got stuck in my head and I couldn't get it out. I will say that I completely understand if you have to stop reading (I have done that in the past) but that I think there are two things that will make this fic stand out from the extremely glutted pack of pregnancy fics.**

**1. Eli and Clare are 27 and 26. This is a HUGE difference from being 17 and 16 like they are in most other fics.**

**2. I have actually been pregnant, so at least the fic will be factually accurate. I know some people are good about researching (and I'm sure I'm not the only person to write one who has been pregnant), but I think there are some things that aren't explained clearly on certain websites. There will be elements of Clare's pregnancy that will be similar to mine and some that are different, and everyone has a slightly different experience anyway, but this will give you a sense of the reality of pregnancy versus what people think it might be like.**

**So anyway, I hope that you continue reading and that you enjoy this story. The response has been overwhelmingly positive thus far (although I can see some of you are frustrated with Clare – just remember, the girl has been through a LOT), and I'm really feeling good about writing this epic monstrosity of a story.**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Well, this probably isn't the chapter you've been waiting for, but it was necessary. If you are unsatisfied by the ending, I will just give you a little reminder to trust me. I've done that a few times in other fics and things always either end up not being what they seem or turning out well anyway. We've got a LONG way to go in this fic, which at this point is set to be about 23 chapters long. So please stick with me.**

* * *

Chapter 7

"**I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag." Paper Bag by Fiona Apple**

I spent the next two days at work in a haze, trying to concentrate on the articles I needed to edit but finding myself failing miserably. For the first time since I had started at the paper, I had ended up delegating a few of the tasks I typically handled myself to Angela and other staff writers.

I probably should have called out, taking what would have been the first sick days I'd taken in the four years that I had been here. But I stuck to my usual tactic of scheduling an appointment at my regular health clinic for Saturday morning so as not to raise suspicion by taking off work.

I had been in the waiting room for nearly 40 minutes already and my appointment time had come and gone. I had brought a few books with me, as was my custom, but I was too anxious to read. I was doing some surreptitious people watching to pass the time. There were frazzled mothers attempting to quiet screaming children, and an elderly man dozing in a chair despite the noise, presumably waiting for his wife. A woman in a sharp pantsuit complained loudly into her cell phone about how long she had to wait "for a fucking pap smear." A young couple, no older than seventeen, sat with tightly clasped hands and nervous, pallid faces.

It was obvious what they were here for.

I checked my watch again, vaguely annoyed. I was never the kind of person to make a scene over a late appointment, but it was only increasing my already elevated anxiety. In the shower this morning, I had discovered my breasts were extremely tender, and though I hadn't woken up any earlier than usual, I was feeling completely exhausted. Now I was stuck here waiting for a pregnancy test that would only confirm what my body was already telling me.

I was sitting next to a display of pamphlets – about HIV testing and Depo Provera and cord blood banking. One in the center caught my eye: "It's Your Choice: Frequently Asked Questions about Abortion."

I reached for a copy and skimmed over the facts. It brought to mind a long ago memory, when I had accompanied Alli to a very similar clinic for a pregnancy test back when we were in Grade 11 at Degrassi. I had read a pamphlet just like this in the waiting room; at the time, I hadn't really known much about the medical facts about abortion. But I knew that for Alli, a seventeen year old girl with all the promise in the world, having a baby at that point in her life would hold her back. And despite the years of church sermons that I had sat through on this very topic, I knew Alli didn't have the same reservations; despite her conservative, religious parents and upbringing, she was a scientist and an atheist.

Alli didn't end up having to make that choice. But if she had been pregnant, I knew it would have been the right one for her.

I had never thought it would be a decision that I would have to make. At the time I'd gone to the clinic with Alli, I had still been a virgin. And even though it was only about two months before I had decided to have sex with Eli, I had told my best friend, "This is an option for you," while privately thinking that this was something I would never, could never do.

At this point in my life, it was starting to feel like more of an option.

But there was still a part of me that couldn't shake that conviction that life begins at conception. I understood all the arguments about viability, and I knew the thing growing inside me was closer to a ball of cells than a person. But it had potential and it could grow into a baby, and I wasn't sure I could be comfortable with ending that journey prematurely.

The nervous couple was called in, and I watched them as they stood, clearly resolved in their decision but still shaken by it. My heart broke for the girl; she was so young to have to make such a weighty choice. But as her boyfriend had put his arm around her in a gesture of support, I couldn't help but feel bad for myself.

I was here alone.

I allowed myself a moment to wallow in pity, before a thought occurred to me. _I was alone_. I placed my hand on my stomach. It was months too soon to feel kicks or flutters. No one on Earth would suspect that I was pregnant. If I had an abortion, no one would know.

No one except me.

Not my mother, whose heart would break if she were forced to admit that her unmarried daughter was sexually active, who would disown me if she knew the truth. Not my pastor, whose pro-life diatribes I had agreed with as a young girl, but had grown increasingly uncomfortable with as I had gotten older and started to understand some of the underlying misogyny in the anti-choice rhetoric.

And not Eli.

Definitely not Eli.

But of course, I knew that was impossible. I'd have to tell someone; the clinic wouldn't let me go through with the procedure without a ride home. In another life, I could have called Alli, but she had never returned to Toronto and Boston was quite far away. Just two years ago, I would have almost certainly confided in Meghan. She and I had grown very close when she had started seeing Jake; we'd go on double dates with Jonathan and Jake, and have girls' nights out for the two of us. But things hadn't been the same since I had rejected her request to be a bridesmaid in their wedding, knowing I wouldn't be able to make the time commitment as I worked round the clock, seeking to be promoted to assistant editor. '

And now that she had a child of her own, who knew if she would even support that? It was easy to be pro-choice in theory, but after having carried a child for nine months of her own, and watching him go through milestones in his first few months of life, would she be okay with the termination of a pregnancy created out of a simple lapse in judgment?

And more importantly, would I?

With a reluctant sigh, I placed the pamphlet back on the rack. If I were seventeen years old, I was certain that choosing abortion would be the right path for me. But I wasn't seventeen anymore, and there was nothing holding me back from having a child except for my own fears.

The problem was that I had a whole lot of fears.

The medical assistant called me in and provided me with a cup for a urine sample. When I returned from the washroom, she proceeded to ask me a number of embarrassing sexual health questions to update my chart. She took my blood pressure, commenting that it was excellent, which was surprising given how nervous I felt. When she finished, she told me the doctor would be with me shortly and that I didn't need to undress.

I only had to wait a few minutes, and it was all I could do to sit and breathe and keep myself from passing out on the floor.

The door opened, and the doctor was looking at my chart. "Ms. Edwards," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Welsch."

"Hi," I said softly.

"The test confirmed that you are indeed pregnant," he said, matter-of-factly, and I let out the breath I was holding. I hadn't really expected a different answer, but there was no longer any reasonable doubt.

"Okay," I said in the same resigned tone.

"What was the date of your last period?"

I took my planner out of my bag and flipped to the last circled date that I had crossed out. "August 17," I said.

He pulled a circular chart out of his drawer. "You're due on May 24th. You're about six and a half weeks pregnant."

"Six weeks?" I asked. It had only been a month since I'd had sex with Eli. "But that's not possible. I've only had sex once in the past two years; I know what date it happened."

Dr. Welsch couldn't help but chuckle. "I know it doesn't make much sense, but we start counting at the date of your last period, even though that's typically about two weeks before the date of conception. And if you're on time, your pregnancy will last 40 weeks, which is actually closer to ten months than the nine months people commonly refer to."

May 24th. I had 36 weeks to go.

And then I would be a mother.

I couldn't even begin to process what that meant. I thought of the mothers in the waiting room with the unruly screaming kids. I didn't even know how to be a mother. My mother had done a good job raising me, especially when I was younger and didn't really challenge her authority, but I had no idea how to replicate that.

Dr. Welsch looked up from my chart and took in the look on my face. "Was this pregnancy planned?" he asked, and I shook my head. "You have options. You can choose not to continue this pregnancy or elect to put the child up for adoption."

I shook my head. "I'm going to keep it," I said, my voice a little more resolved than it had been previously.

The doctor nodded. "Will the father be involved?"

I looked down at my hands. "I don't know," I said honestly. "I haven't told him yet."

"Is he a good person?" he asked, and I had to stop myself from laughing. "I mean, is he abusive physically or emotionally where it would be a negative thing to have him in your child's life?"

I shook my head. As much as Eli had hurt me in our romantic relationship, I knew he would never hurt a child. I just wasn't sure if he was interested in having one, or if I would be interested in sharing that responsibility with him.

"You should tell him," he said gently. "Going through this alone is much more difficult than going through it with a supportive partner."

I nodded, and Dr. Welsch seemed to take that as a sign that I didn't want to talk about this any further. "So you'll need to find an obstetrician," he said. "Most people use one that is recommended by a friend or family member, or I can give you a list of candidates. You'll want to follow up with them in about two weeks, and you'll see them once a month for the first few months."

I knew I could ask Meghan who her doctor was, but that would require telling her, and I wasn't sure I was ready to do that in the next two weeks. I wondered how I'd be able to schedule that many doctor's appointments without anyone at work finding out. "I'll take the list," I said.

"I'll give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. It's very important that you take them daily. Have you experienced any nausea or vomiting?" I shook my head. "That's likely to come soon, unfortunately. Try to eat several small meals, and eat crackers or something small first thing in the morning. You're starting out at a healthy weight, which is good, so try not to go too crazy with the ice cream and cookies. The baby only requires an addition 300 calories a day, so we don't encourage you to put on an extra 50 pounds by eating too much junk. But a treat now and then to satisfy cravings is perfectly safe and reasonable."

I nodded, trying to keep all of this information in my head as he continued. "Here's a list of foods to avoid," he said, and I was grateful that he handed it to me on paper. "Cold cuts, soft cheeses that haven't been pasteurized, some kinds of fish. It's better to avoid diet soda; those artificial sweeteners are not the best. Caffeine is okay in limited doses, but if you're a real coffee addict, it's a good idea to cut back. Other than that, eat a normal, healthy diet and you'll be all set." I guessed my days of eating out of the vending machine at work were over. "Do you have any questions for me?"

I shook my head. "Best of luck to you and your baby," he said. "Don't forget to follow up in about two weeks with an OB."

"I will," I promised.

When I got outside, I took a moment and rested my hand on the wall, keeping myself steady. I couldn't try to deny this anymore. I was pregnant, and I was having a baby.

And I needed to tell Eli.

I pulled out my cell phone, grateful that he'd had the forethought to program his number for me. I'd avoided his calls for two weeks after our encounter, but I figured this was as good a time as any to call him back. I knew I couldn't tell him over the phone, but I hoped that he would agree to meet up with me for dinner so I could let him know what was going on.

The phone rang a few times and I steeled myself to leave the world's most awkward voicemail, when someone picked up, "Hello?"

It was definitely a female voice.

"Hi, may I speak with Eli please?" I asked after a second's hesitation.

"He's in the shower right now," the voice chirped. "This is Clare?" she asked. For a second I wondered if he might have told whoever this woman was about me, but then I realized the caller ID on his phone must have told her. "Are you the editor from Hachette he's been waiting for? Because I can go get him."

"No, that's okay," I said. "I'll try back later."

"It'll just take a second," she insisted.

"I'm not his editor," I clarified.

"Ohh, I'm sorry," she said. "He's been so excited to hear if they accepted his book proposal that I grabbed the phone when I heard it. I probably should have let you go to voicemail."

"I don't think many editors call on Saturday mornings," I said dryly.

"You're right," she said affably. "He'll probably be out in a few minutes if you want to wait. He's been in there a long time and my hot water heater is shit."

"That's okay," I said again.

I was about to hang up when I heard her voice again. "Do you want me to give him a message?"

I felt a pang in my heart. "No. I just realized it wasn't important," I said, and I ended the call.

I wasn't sure if I was going to laugh, cry, or scream so I hurried back over to my car so I'd be more isolated from the public. But once I sat down and grabbed onto the steering wheel, all I felt was numb.

Was it really a surprise that Eli had a girlfriend? He had cheated on me all those years ago. This time he had cheated on someone else with me.

For the second time, I was the one who got fucked.

But I wasn't going to lose myself the way I had last time. I had to keep things together.

This time I had a baby to think about.


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else. If I did, there would be Eclare sex. Yes there would.  
**

**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all of your kind words about this fic. I haven't been this nervous about a fic in ages. It's nice to see people asking for updates because they really want to know what is happening next, but just keep in mind, real life is crazy for me. I don't half-ass chapters just to get something up, and it takes at minimum a few days to write something really worth reading. But it means the world to me that you are reading and reviewing and generally enjoying this fic either because of or in spite of the topic.  
**

**Thanks to Cortney and Halle for helping with the tone of this chapter.  
**

* * *

Chapter 8

"**I ain't no damsel in distress and I don't need to be rescued." Not a Pretty Girl, Ani DiFranco**

It took over 24 hours, but soon my phone was ringing non-stop as Eli must have realized I had called him. I didn't answer, but I did listen to the first of his many voicemails.

_Clare, it's Eli. I know you must be mad but I can explain. Please call me back._

I knew it was childish to dodge his calls, but the betrayal was too raw, and I knew if I spoke with Eli now I wouldn't be able to handle it. I gave myself a deadline of one week, to cool down. I couldn't avoid him forever.

On Monday, I left work on time, barely able to keep my eyes open. I had run into Christine in the elevator lobby on my way home, and she was unable to contain her surprise that I was leaving so early again, and asked if I had started seeing someone. Rather than tell her that the only thing I wanted to see was my bed, I alluded to the fact that there was someone new in my life; it wasn't exactly a lie. She looked pleased at the news, and I wondered if she'd have the same reaction if she knew I was referring to a baby that I hadn't planned to have, with the last person on earth I wanted to have it with.

I made it home in record time, but my dreams of a peaceful hour of rest were quickly dashed. Eli sat slumped in front of my apartment door, looking about as bad as I felt.

I guessed it was time to get this over with.

"Hi," I said cautiously, as he jumped up to get out of the way so I could open my door.

"Hey," he said, clearly surprised that I hadn't led off by screaming at him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice filled with unexpected sadness.

"One of your neighbors let me in. I need to explain," he said, and I just nodded, resigned. I had things to explain too.

We walked in and sat on the bed, even more awkwardly than we had the first time. "Clare," Eli began, but I cut him off.

"Don't lie to me," I said, clenching my jaw. "You were showering in her apartment at 11 a.m. on a Saturday. She's your girlfriend."

Eli closed his eyes and nodded. "She's my girlfriend," he confirmed. I expected to feel angry but apparently I had already gotten over that in the past few days. I had more important things to focus on than Eli. "But…"

I held up my hand. "You don't have to explain. I should have known. Once a cheater, always a cheater."

His face fell and he took a deep breath before responding. "I know this looks bad, but I didn't cheat. We're not serious or exclusive."

I glared at him, picturing the parade of women I had briefly imagined him with during our last conversation, and it was that image that finally brought back the rage I had suppressed. "Oh great…so I'm just another notch in the bedpost for you? Or do you get another notch if you've already fucked the girl? I don't know the rules for manwhores."

He scoffed. "Yeah, I'm such a manwhore. Four women in twelve years – I'm practically a fucking saint. This was the first time since I started seeing her that I hooked up with someone else."

I raised an eyebrow at his admission. Four women? It was almost hard to believe that I'd slept with the same number of people he had, considering I'd previously worn a purity ring and that he didn't have the same moral restrictions on sex that I'd once clung to. "Then how exactly aren't you exclusive?"

He gave me a pointed look. "Great," I said angrily. "She fucks around on you? I'm so glad I had sex with you without a condom. I guess I'll have to add an STD test to my next doctor's visit."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Grow up, Clare. We're adults; we're not exclusive. She can fuck whomever she wants." Eli's temper was starting to flare. "And if you're so damn concerned about STDs, maybe you shouldn't be having sex without a condom. Lauren uses them every time and I get tested, so I'm sure your precious ass will be fine."

His comment sucker punched me. Not only were we in this situation because we hadn't bothered to use a condom, but I had learned the hard way that casual relationships weren't always the best idea, when a routine pap smear had led to a phone call from the clinic, diagnosing me with gonorrhea. I had known Michael and I weren't exclusive, and I had been fine with it. After three years of dating Jonathan, I wasn't looking for anything serious, and Michael fit the bill. We'd go out for dinner and drinks after work occasionally, and sometimes we skipped straight to the sex, but our whole relationship felt like it was on my terms, that I didn't have to call him when I didn't want to or meet his parents or talk about the future. But the STD test was a wake-up call that though I'd managed to keep my heart out of this relationship, there still were things at risk, and I'd ended our arrangement after informing him of his need to obtain antibiotics.

"I'm not exactly sure why you're angry at me. Open relationship or not, you're the one who slept with me without telling me the truth."

Eli's jaw dropped. "I didn't have the opportunity to tell you anything. One minute you were crying and the next you were sitting on my cock. And you might recall the two weeks of phone calls and texts that you never bothered to respond to."

"Yeah, I'm _so_ glad I missed that call. 'Hi Clare, it was nice fucking you, but I'll be banging Lauren tonight, so don't get any ideas that this might have meant something to me.'"

"You're crazy," he said, getting up and pacing across the small room. "I told you I wanted to see you again. You're the one who didn't want anything to do with me."

"You're right," I challenged. "I didn't."

The anger dropped out of his body and was replaced with something I couldn't quite place. He sat down again but didn't turn to face me. He pressed his hands against his eyes.

The silence was more unsettling than the argument. "I don't see why you're upset. You already have a girlfriend."

He glanced at me sadly. "I was going to break up with her."

I raised an eyebrow. "But you didn't."

He looked away. "She was out of town. By the time she got back, I'd already given up hope that you'd call me."

"So you might as well just continue your totally awesome open relationship then?" I said sarcastically.

"This was a mistake," he said softly.

"Trust me. You have no idea."

There was something in my voice that made Eli look up at me curiously. "Clare?"

I tried to hold his gaze but I couldn't, closing my eyes.

"I'm pregnant."

"You're what?" he gasped, staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm pregnant," I repeated.

He didn't speak for a minute, gaping at me as if he was trying to assess if I were telling the truth, if this was just a joke to punish him for having a girlfriend. But the look on my face told him without a doubt that this was true.

"Wow. Shit," he said, running his fingers through his hair and grabbing on as if for dear life. "It's mine, obviously? I mean you said you hadn't…" He paused and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm saying."

"It's a shock," I confirmed. "And I just thought you had a right to know. I don't expect you to be involved or anything."

"Clare?" His tone broke my heart. "I'm not…I would never do that." I could see his hands tightening but it wasn't with anger. It took him a minute to continue. "If you're having a baby, I'm going to be there for you."

At this moment, I felt more shocked that Eli wasn't freaking out and angry with me. He was clearly floored by the news, but I expected his temper to flare and he seemed to be keeping himself under control. "Okay," I said, not really knowing what else to say. His offer was kind and I was sure his intentions were heartfelt, but hearing the words didn't make me feel much more convinced that he would act on them, given our history.

"How long have you known? When did you find out?"

I looked down at my hands. "I took a home test on Wednesday. And then my doctor confirmed on Saturday."

He looked away. "And that's when you called me…and got Lauren."

"Yeah."

"You must have been pissed," he said, glancing at me.

"I was at the time. I'm not anymore." He gave me a disbelieving look so I explained, "I've had a relationship like that. Where you're together, but it's not really serious. So I can understand how you weren't really cheating." I couldn't help but tack on a spiteful, "This time."

Eli flinched. "I'm surprised you were in a relationship like that."

I shrugged. "I could say the same for you."

He nodded but didn't respond, staring off into space as if he were thinking hard about this. His face didn't betray his feelings and for Eli, having that level of control over his emotions was quite an accomplishment.

"You're taking this remarkably well," I commented. "I had a massive freak out on the bathroom floor myself."

Eli glanced over at me. "It hasn't fully hit me yet. But I'm not going to get mad or upset about it. I mean, it's certainly not ideal, but…we can get through this." His note of confidence momentarily lifted my spirits. "Man, they tell you in health class that the pill's not 100% effective, but you don't really believe that until it happens to you."

I sucked in a deep breath and Eli looked at me. It was now or never time on the honesty front, and I knew what I had to do. "I…um… I wasn't on the pill," I admitted quickly.

"What?" he asked, his voice decidedly less even as he stared at me.

"I wasn't on the pill," I repeated, my voice trailing off at the end of my statement.

Eli stood up and took a few steps away from me. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

I could feel the tears filling up my eyes and I willed them away, not wanting to break down in front of Eli yet again. "I'm sorry."

"How could you be so stupid?" he roared.

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I hadn't had sex for a long time so I went off it, and I wasn't exactly expecting this to happen."

"This is fucking wonderful," he said, more to himself than me. He started pacing the floor and I could feel my own anger rise in response to his. "You should have used a fucking condom."

"You didn't seem to mind at the time," I complained.

He stopped pacing. "Because I thought you were on the pill," he explained using a slow, condescending voice. "You were smarter than that when we were in high school. You're an adult now. I can't believe this." He shuddered a little. "And you were in an open relationship too…Maybe I'm the one who needs to go for the STD test."

"Fuck you, Eli." I couldn't believe his nerve. "You were there too. It's not all my fault."

"Yeah because you gave me so much notice. One minute my dick is in your mouth and the next you're riding me, and somehow in those 30 seconds I was supposed to get my sex fogged brain to ask about protection when I knew you were on the pill when you were seventeen and had no reason to suspect that had changed."

I tried to deflate the situation. "I know it was stupid. I knew if I suggested we go down to the pharmacy to buy condoms that you would leave, and I just…"

"Decided to let yourself get knocked up instead? Because that's obviously a great way to get a guy to stick around."

"Like I'd expect you to stick around, pregnant or not. Or did you forget how you dumped me?"

He frowned. "You've only brought it up about ten times in the two occasions I've seen you in the past eight years."

"This is all your fault," I accused.

"And how is that exactly?" he asked dryly.

"If you hadn't shown up and taken advantage of me, this never would have happened."

"Taken advantage of you? Taken advantage of you?!" I hadn't seen Eli this enraged since we broke up and he crashed his hearse, and for a moment I felt honestly terrified despite the fact that he had never, ever hurt my physically. "You kissed _me_. You fucked _me._ And now I'm going to be a father because you forgot how babies are made and I'm stuck with the kid because Jesus doesn't condone abortions."

I gasped at Eli's words and his face fell, as if he knew he had crossed a line. "I'm sorry," he said softly. He took a seat on the bed, putting some distance between us, and covered his face with his hands. "I shouldn't have said that. I don't mean it."

His apology sounded genuine, but I was too hurt and shocked to respond. We sat in silence for a few minutes before Eli moved closer to me and put his hand on mine. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm angry about the situation but I shouldn't take that out on you. And especially not your beliefs. That wasn't right."

"I'm sorry, too. For putting you in this situation in the first place." I sighed, letting him know the information I had wanted to keep to myself. "And for the record, I really considered having an abortion. But I just can't."

His hand curled around mine and squeezed my fingers, and I couldn't push him away. "I understand. It's your decision and the fact that you thought about it is enough for me. But I would never ask that of you unless it's what you wanted." He let out a little uncomfortable laugh. "So we're having a baby."

"Yeah…" I couldn't say anything else.

He let go of my hand and brought his together, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs. "I'll break up with Lauren," he said. "I was going to anyway, and now…"

"You don't need to do that."

"It's the right thing to do," he insisted.

I looked away. I didn't want to argue with him anymore and I really didn't want to think about Lauren.

Eli cleared his throat. "I guess we should talk about getting married."

I stared at him, befuddled for a few moments before bursting into laughter.

"What?" he asked, obviously a little hurt.

I shook my head. "I am not going to marry you."

He scowled. "And that's what's so funny?"

"No…I…" I fought to control the hysterics with some difficulty and catch my breath. "I just didn't think it was possible for a proposal to be less romantic than my last one, but here we are."

"You were engaged?" he asked softly. I could tell there was weight to this question and that although we'd both been able to brush off each others' casual relationships, neither of us really wanted to know about the people who had mattered. I didn't want to consider the fact that he might have loved someone else as much as he'd loved me.

I shook my head. "I said no."

Jonathan and I had been together for three years and were in our last year of university when he gave me the good news that he had scored an interview with the Vancouver Sun and was headed home to his parents' house for spring break. He had asked me to join him but I decided to remain in Toronto, looking forward to some quiet time amidst a stressful semester. He had returned with the good news that he had been offered an entry level copy editing position and I had been very pleased for him.

But the fact that his position was located across the country had meant we had to make some decisions about our relationship that I just wasn't ready to make. He asked me to join him out there, hoping to use his connections to secure a position for me as well. I didn't have any immediate job prospects in Toronto but I'd spent my whole life here and wasn't sure I was ready to move. And in truth, I wasn't sure if spending the rest of my life with Jonathan was really what I wanted either. I'd asked him to give me time but after a month when I hadn't told him what my plans were, he'd given me an ultimatum.

"You should marry me," he'd said, brandishing a small, tasteful diamond ring. "Move to Vancouver and be my wife." When I'd responded that I wasn't sure, he informed me that he wasn't interested in a long distance relationship, so if I planned to remain in Toronto, our relationship would be over.

I never put the ring on. And when I told him a month later that I'd been offered a job by the Globe and Mail, our celebratory dinner was our last. He bid me goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a "Good luck, Clare," and it made me wonder if the past three years had really meant anything – to him or to me.

"I'm not proposing, Clare. I just think it's something we should talk about. We are having a kid together. It's a logical conversation."

I rolled my eyes. "Plenty of people have kids together out of wedlock. The only person I know who cares about that sort of thing is my mother, and she's just going to have to deal with this."

"Have you told her yet?"

I shook my head. "I was barely ready to have _this_ conversation."

He nodded, most likely thinking about bringing up this newfound development with his own parents. "Clare, I just want you to know. I'm with you on this. I'm not going to abandon you."

I looked at him sadly. "I want to believe that…but after last time, I'm not sure I can."

He looked hurt, but like he understood. "I'm going to do whatever I can to make you trust me again. And I'm going to start by ending things with Lauren. Tonight."

"You don't have to do that," I reiterated. "Whatever happens…it has nothing to do with us. You can be involved in the baby's life…but you're not going to be involved with me."

Eli gave me a cool look. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

He stood up and started walking over toward the door, but turned around before he reached it as if he had just thought of something to say. "We don't have to decide everything today. We've got 9 months ahead of us."

"34 weeks," I corrected. "They go by weeks. It's 40 total."

He narrowed his eyes. "But we only…"

"They start with the date of your last period, not the date of conception. Trust me. It's yours." I was so irritated by his accusation that I added, "You might want to read up on pregnancy. So you know how this works," which was completely unfair since I didn't feel like I knew anything either.

He sighed. "All I'm saying is that I'm willing to wait. We can take these 34 weeks and get to know each other again. And we don't have to get married, but if you can learn to trust me and forgive me, maybe we could start over. I know you need time," he added hastily when he saw I was about to protest. "I'm just asking you not to rule this out."

I shook my head. "You've only slept with four women," I said as if that were a logical explanation.

He looked completely confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

I counted on my fingers. "Julia. Me. Lauren. And _her_." I wiggled my pinky at him. "I've always tried to convince myself that the girl you cheated on me with was a one night stand, that you were drunk and made a mistake, and that you dumped me because you felt so guilty. But clearly she wasn't. It was a relationship. A relationship that you chose over me."

I expected Eli to look guilty but I couldn't pinpoint the emotion that was on his face. "Clare…I didn't…"

"No," I cut him off. "I don't want to know." He opened his mouth to continue, but I stopped him again. "If we're going to have a baby together, you have to promise me that you won't bring up our past. Not how we dated, and definitely not what happened after we broke up."

"But Clare…"

I felt the tears sliding down my cheek once more. "This is so unfair; this is so unfair," I muttered, more to myself than Eli. "I wanted this, you know. I spent my high school years dreaming of being with you. Marriage and kids and the perfect house with a walk-in closet and built-in bookshelves. A seat in the front row of all your plays and a loving husband by my side. All I wanted was to spend the rest of my life with you."

His face softened as I let out a choked sob and Eli stepped toward me. I held up my hand to keep him away. "We could still have that, Clare. We have our whole lives ahead of us."

"We _can't_ have that."

"Why?" he asked desperately.

"Because you broke me," I said plainly. "You broke me, and I don't want that life anymore."

He looked appropriately chastened and at a loss for words. I could see that he wanted to protest, that he hoped he'd be able to change my mind. So I told him exactly how I felt, not holding anything back.

"Eli, I'm taking a risk here, because I know deep down inside that if you wanted to, you could be a good father for this baby." There was a dull pang of regret in my heart, but I had to follow my head for once. "But you won't be anything more than that to me. No matter what."

"Whatever you want," he said, his voice dull. "Can you do me a favor though?"

"What's that?"

"Answer your phone when I call you this time."

I stood up and opened the door for him. "Why don't you just let me call you?"

He shook his head in annoyance and walked out.


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**This is a super short one from me. Not the most exciting chapter, but a little update on where Clare is right now. Sorry for the long wait. **

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Chapter 9

**"I was restless, I was restless, I was restless, I was restless. I just want this to be good, I just want this to be good. But you don't understand, you don't understand me, and I want to be understood." Wishing Heart by Lisa Loeb**

It had been three weeks since I had told Eli about the pregnancy, but the only thing that had changed was my stomach's inability to keep food down. I had always thought that the fact that it was called morning sickness meant that throwing up was relegated to the morning, but I was finding that most days, the vomiting could begin at any time. As bad as that was, I typically felt better after throwing up, and it was the bouts of never-ending nausea that were getting to me. At my last doctor's appointment, I had actually lost weight, and though they said that was nothing to worry about in the short-term, I needed to work on keeping food down.

The doctor had recommended "preggy pops" and though it sounded ridiculous, I found them rather helpful. Fortunately they had versions that came in lozenges rather than lollipops, as I didn't relish the idea of having to explain to my coworkers why I'd developed a habit where I needed to suck on the world's most inappropriate candy at work. But on days like today, when the nausea was too bad, nothing worked. I had never really cared about the private bathroom attached to my office previously, but it had been a lifesaver in the past few weeks.

No one at work had figured out the truth.

I had been even more of a hermit than usual, sticking to my desk other than mandatory meetings. But right now, my office smelled vaguely like vomit despite the air freshener I'd sprayed and the two competing odors made me retreat to the breakroom to attempt to get some food down.

I opened up a package of crackers and a yogurt. For the first time I was glad that I didn't exactly have normal lunches regularly because this wouldn't stand out as a glaring beacon announcing my pregnancy. I smiled politely at a few coworkers at tables nearby but pulled a book out of my bag in an attempt to avoid conversation.

Before I looked down, I could see Christine sitting with Nicole, my former best friend, and the two of them glanced over at me in concern. Earlier that day, while kneeling in front of the toilet for the second time that morning, I had decided that I had no choice but to give up the Judy Blume interview. While I knew it was safe to fly while pregnant, I couldn't imagine asking Judy to give me a moment so I could go puke my guts out in the bathroom of her Miami palace. I'd felt like the walking dead lately and I knew I couldn't live up to my personal professional standards. When I had given Christine the good news, she had tried to talk me out of it, despite the fact that it was an amazing opportunity for her. She had asked me why and I could tell that she didn't buy my excuses but fortunately, she didn't push.

I could feel their eyes on me again and I forced myself to focus on my lunch. I took a spoonful of yogurt and immediately regretted it. I spit it out into a napkin as unobtrusively as possible, and stuck with the crackers. Once upon a time, I would have joined Nicole and Christine, and joked about bad headline choices and maybe have even told them my big news. But I was afraid that once everyone knew at work, it would change their opinions of me. It was easier to avoid people than to face them.

My phone buzzed and I dug it out of the pocket of my blazer. It was Eli.

_Bullfrog says that if it's a boy, we have to name it after my dead grandfather – Zechariah._

After Eli and I had our blowout fight, I felt awful. I knew it wasn't fair of me to assume that just because Eli had walked out on me that he would do the same to a child, and some of the accusations I had thrown out at him in anger were patently unfair. I had waited two days to give him some time, and then I had texted him to see how he was dealing with the news. He had responded a few hours later that he was still pretty much in shock but was starting to come around to it.

Since then we had kept up a steady correspondence, though we both clearly were putting some time in between our responses so that it wasn't exactly a conversation. He had asked me if I wanted to be there when he told his parents, and I had told him honestly that I wasn't ready to face them. He had understood where I was coming from, and gave me the good news that though his parents weren't exactly thrilled with the news of the unplanned pregnancy, that they were completely behind us.

I couldn't help but respond immediately to this one.

_Nope. I don't think so. ;)_

It was a relief to know that Eli's parents weren't going to kill us for our bad judgment, but I had a feeling my mother's reaction wouldn't be so kind. I hadn't worked up the nerve to tell her, so I'd been going out of my way to avoid her. She was still angry at me for leaving Darcy's funeral so she was calling less anyway. It was a bit terrifying to think that it was possible that my mother could run into Cece at Loblaws and discover the news in the most unfortunate way, but they had only met briefly eight years ago, and I doubted they could pick each other out in a crowd of strangers.

Eli responded again, and I couldn't help but smile.

_Yeah, I told him I'd rather kill him and name the kid after him instead._

My fingers typed out a response.

_Bullfrog? You don't think that's worse?_

His response made me laugh out loud.

_Come on, Clare. You think Bullfrog is his real name? It's Benyamin._

I shook my head. _I wouldn't have expected all these ancient Hebrew names from a bunch of people who haven't stepped foot in temple since your bris._

I heard the scrape of a chair pulling up across from me and put the phone away. Jerry was sitting across the table, pulling out a tuna fish sandwich that smelled vile to my pregnant nose. I was about to excuse myself when he commented, "On a diet?" and pointed at my small meal.

"Yeah," I said curtly. It annoyed me that he would bring that up. I was fairly thin to begin with and I'd lost a few pounds recently due to the nausea. My weight was starting to move around a bit to accommodate the baby, but my blazers had just enough room in them that I could still get them buttoned. I knew that it was only a matter of time before I'd be in the market for new clothes, but I wasn't there yet, and I couldn't believe he had that little tact to bring this up.

"My wife was on Nutrisystem," he said, his mouth full of sandwich. "Lost 35 pounds. She's looking great. You should try that. Much better than crackers."

My eyes welled with tears involuntarily. Even at my heaviest – which I hadn't seen since Grade 12 when I'd drowned my sorrows in Ben and Jerry's on a few too many occasions – I had never had anywhere near 35 pounds to lose. "I'll try that," I said bitterly, gathering up my food as quickly as I could to get away from him and back to my office.

He seemed to get the tone of my comment and looked up apologetically. "Not that you need to lose that much…I mean…"

"I've got it...thanks," I muttered, pushing in my chair with a loud scrape and retreating to my office, feeling the stares of several coworkers on my back.

I found myself on the bathroom floor for the third time that day, but fortunately, the crackers stayed down. My eyes weren't cooperating though and the tears rolled down my cheeks. I knew I was being insane, to cry over the thoughtless comment of a coworker I didn't even like, but my hormones were raging and I couldn't get myself back under control. I just kept thinking about what would happen when I did gain the weight, when the baby was noticeable, growing up inside of me. And then the terrifying reality that I had no idea what I was doing. Right now, the baby was an abstraction. In just a few months, it would be a reality – a person completely dependent upon a mother who had no clue how you take care of a child.

My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket, hoping that it was not an apology message from Jerry, since I knew I wasn't ready to face him.

_Yeah, I'm not sure why my parents' devotion to their religion begins and ends at the penis, but that's Cece and Bullfrog for you. We better hope this baby is a girl. Back to class – the monsters await._

I grinned, but it was quickly replaced by another sob. Of all the people in my life, I couldn't believe the only person who was able to put a smile of my face was Eli Goldsworthy.


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

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Chapter 10

"**And all my armor falling down in a pile at my feet. And my winter giving way to warm as I'm singing him to sleep" Pale September by Fiona Apple**

By the time I was 14 weeks pregnant – and having difficulty buttoning all of my pants without using safety pins – I decided I could no longer keep this a secret. But I wasn't ready to face my mother's wrath, so I thought it would be best to start with the person in my family who was the most understanding and non-judgmental – Jake's wife, Meghan.

I could hear the shock in her voice when I called to ask if she'd like to grab lunch with me later that week, on a Thursday no less. But I had decided it would be best to tell her without Jake around, so I had taken a very rare personal day so he would be out of the house. She had agreed happily, and I couldn't help but smile. I'd missed spending time with Meghan. Since the wedding, she had felt more like a sister-in-law than a friend, and I'd been spending so much time on work that I hadn't done much to maintain even the familial bond. And since she'd had Devin, we had seen each other even less than usual.

When I arrived at her door promptly at noon, it took a long time for her to answer. I could tell she was home because her car was in the driveway, but despite ringing a few times, the door remained closed. Jake had given me a key to their house when they'd moved out to the suburbs not long after they had gotten married, but I hadn't thought to bring it with me. The air was starting to get cooler, as it was the end of November, but I shivered a little, wishing I had brought a warmer coat.

I heard the shrieking baby before the door even opened, and part of me was tempted to run back to my car. But I pasted a smile on my face and greeting my sister-in-law and the screaming child she was rocking in her arms. "Hi, Meghan," I chirped. "Hi, Devin." I touched his little hand and immediately regretted it as it was absolutely covered in drool. The crying stopped momentarily, as Devin peered at me, possibly trying to discern if he knew who I was. But the reprieve was brief as he turned back toward his mother, opening his toothless mouth wide to let out an endless wail.

"Clare," Meghan said, out of breath and a little surprised. "I completely forgot."

My heart sank a little as I took in the news that should have already been clear. Meghan usually looked like she stepped out of a J Crew catalog, with neat sweaters and dress pants, and freshly blown out hair. But she answered the door in pajamas, her hair in a messy ponytail which rivaled her frazzled expression. "I'm sorry," I said, despite not having anything to apologize for. "Should we reschedule?"

"No, no," she tried to reassure me, juggling the baby from one hip to another. "You drove all the way out here. And you're all dressed up too." I was wearing work clothes, which I supposed was strange for a day off, but at this point, the black blazer was the last piece of clothing I had that I could button over my stomach without it being glaringly obvious that I was pregnant, so I didn't have much of a choice. "It's just _someone_ refused to take a nap this morning, so he's a little cranky." Her words were ostensibly to me, but she was looking straight at Devin, her words taking on a sing-song, mock irritated tone.

"Hence the screaming," I said, trying to sound like I understood. We stood in her foyer as she made shhh-ing noises in Devin's ear, trying to get him to stop crying.

"It's okay, Baby Boy," she murmured. He leaned his head on her shoulder for a minute, and I wondered if he was going to fall asleep, but he popped back up and his loud cry returned.

"Did you want me to hold him?" I asked charitably, not really wanting to take the screaming baby out of her hands but feeling like that might be the easiest course of action. "So you can go get dressed?"

"I don't think Devin's going to make it through a lunch at a restaurant," she explained. "He can sit up, but not quite well enough for a high chair. And he hates his car seat."

"Why don't we do this another time?" I suggested again, wondering if it would be impolite to recommend that she get a babysitter.

"It's okay," she responded, though I was only half-sure that it was to me. "I can make you something here. I must have something…maybe spaghetti?"

I laughed. "You and Jake don't get to eat anymore? It's all kids' food from now on?"

She looked at me as if my comment had been completely serious. "Devin doesn't even have teeth yet. He can't eat spaghetti."

"I know," I said, though really I hadn't the faintest clue of what babies ate. I had started going through _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ and felt like I had a little bit of a handle on pregnancy itself, but taking care of an actual child was a complete mystery. I knew there were sequels to that book that dealt with actual babies and I vowed to buy them for my Kindle as soon as I returned home.

We headed toward the kitchen and Meghan gasped when she saw the time on the stove. "Oh my God, Devy-Baby. It's after noon. No wonder you're so fussy."

As I watched in confusion, she started to unbutton her pajama top, and I whirled around once I figured out what was going on. I couldn't believe that she was about to whip out a boob in the middle of her kitchen with me standing right there.

Meghan's cell phone rang, and she groaned. "It's Jake," she said after a moment. "Could you…?"

I turned around and saw that she was fortunately covered but that she was holding the still whimpering baby out to me. I took him, feeling completely uncomfortable. I let him sit on the kitchen island, while I held him under his armpits, gripping him a little too tightly. His tiny chubby hands swatted at my arms.

"Who is this?" I heard Meghan ask, which confused me because I thought it was Jake calling. She let out a little gasp and steadied herself against the counter. All of the colour drained out of her face. "Which hospital?...I'll be right there."

Meghan took a deep breath before turning back to me with tears in her eyes. "It's Jake…he's in the hospital. He was screwing around on a job site and something fell and he crushed his hand."

I gasped. "Is he okay?" Jake was an engineer now, but he liked to be very hands on at building sites, and enjoyed showing off his years of construction experience. This wasn't the first time he'd been hurt doing something dumb, but if he agreed to go to the hospital, this must be really bad.

"I don't know," she said, panicked. She walked to the sink and grabbed a bottle. "Diaper bag, diaper bag…burp cloths…bib…Shit…shit…what else?" she mumbled, more to herself than to me.

I looked at the squirming baby in my grasp who seemed to get the sense that something was wrong because he had stopped screaming and was watching his mother across the room. "I can stay with Devin," I volunteered before I had a chance to talk myself out of it. "You don't want him at the hospital anyway. All those germs. He'll be bored stiff."

"Are you sure?" Meghan looked a bit skeptical. It was true that I hadn't exactly volunteered for babysitting duty before but this was clearly an extenuating circumstance.

"We'll be fine," I promised, forcing a smile onto my face. "Right, Devin?"

He reached out and squeezed my cheek in apparent agreement.

"Okay," she said in relief. She started digging through her purse that was draped over the back of a chair at the kitchen table. "Wallet, cell phone, keys…am I missing anything? Breast pump…"

That reminded me of an imminent problem. "Um…He needs to eat and I'm not exactly…" I gestured at my breasts. "Equipped."

"Right," she said, distractedly. "Milk's in the freezer. Defrost it in a cup, not the microwave. A little warm is best. If he doesn't eat it all, just stick it back in the fridge. Hopefully he'll get down for a nap right afterward."

I tried to digest all the information she had just given me when Meghan came over and took Devin out of my hands. "You be good for Auntie Clare," she said in that sing-song voice again. She gave him a squeeze before returning him to me. "Call me if you need me," she said and took off for the front door.

The second it closed, Devin burst into tears again.

"Oh no. Oh no," I said, hugging him closer. "It's okay. Mommy just went out for a little bit." His wailing grew louder again. "Okay…let's get you a bottle."

He was only six months old and he couldn't have weighed much more than 7 kilograms but already by arms were killing me. I shifted him to my other arm and grabbed the bottle that Meghan had left by the sink. I glanced at the refrigerator door and realized there was no way I was getting this done with only one free hand.

I moved toward the high chair but I couldn't figure out how to unlatch the tray to get him hooked into it. Feeling desperate, I grabbed an afghan off the couch in the living room and with great difficulty, knelt down and spread a section wide enough to fit a baby on the kitchen floor. I placed Devin gently down but his screaming just intensified.

"I'm making a bottle!" I repeated, trying to reassure him that things were progressing in a way that he'd find satisfactory. It didn't work, and I knew there was no way I could both get him calmed down and make a bottle at the same time, so I left him where he was, figuring that in the long term this was the better decision.

I took the milk bag pitcher out of the fridge and unscrewed the nipple from the bottle. But before I poured it in, I recalled that Meghan had said something about the milk being in the freezer. For a brief second, I figured she had just misspoken, but I realized that if the baby typically drank breast milk, he probably wasn't having regular milk for lunch even if his mother wasn't available. I checked the freezer and sure enough there was a plastic bin containing bags of a pale yellow liquid. Each bag was dated with a sharpie and frozen solid.

I grabbed a bag at random and put the milk pitcher back in the fridge. I knew I was on the right track now, but I had no idea how to get this solid block into the bottle and then into Devin's stomach. "Defrost it in a cup?" I mumbled, remembering what Meghan had said. "What does that even mean? Devin, do you know how mommy does this?"

But of course the baby didn't give me any sort of helpful response. I pulled out my phone and googled "how to thaw breastmilk." One helpful YouTube video later and I was waiting rather impatiently for the bag to heat up in the cup of warm water; it only took a few minutes, but with Devin screaming, it felt like a lifetime.

I breathed a sigh of relief once we were on the couch and Devin was drinking. I could feel a headache coming on, and within minutes, my arm was killing me from holding him up. I wanted to shift so I could rest against the arm of the couch but he started shrieking the moment I tried to take the bottle away.

He must have been hungry because he drained the whole bottle. I propped him up on my shoulder awkwardly; both Jake and Meghan were much taller than me, and Devin seemed to be following in their footsteps. I knew I needed to burp him, but the last time I had any practice was back in Grade 9, when I had taken part in Holly J's baby-sitting business. We had been taught the proper technique in the class she had forced us to take, but I had never put it to use. My charges had all been older – eight to ten year olds mostly – and my mother had forced me to quit after just a month after I had brought home an 82 on a routine Geometry test.

Despite my lack of experience, I managed to get him to burp. He gave me a delighted smile afterward, and I was feeling pleased that I finally managed to get something right. But the smile was short-lived, and not twenty seconds later, he spit up what seemed like half his bottle down the front of my blazer.

Great. Now I had to do laundry before work tomorrow since this was the only thing I owned that fit. I vowed to give in and go maternity clothes shopping over the weekend, though I knew it would be difficult to find items that would hide my growing belly. I spotted a burp cloth dangling from a nearby armchair, and wished I had thought of that a little sooner. I wiped us up as best I could – the lion's share of the vomit had ended up on me, and he wiggled in my arms and let out a huge yawn.

A nap. That was something I could do. "Okay Devin…sleepytime," I said, adopting that same sing-song tone that Meghan had used earlier. It occurred to me that I hadn't actually been over to their house since the baby was born and I only knew which room was the nursery because I done my step-sisterly duty and helped Jake paint it.

I carefully carried Devin up the stairs, holding him against my shoulder. He leaned down into me as I rubbed his back, clearly exhausted. I put him down as gently as I could in the crib and his eyes shot open. He let out a wail that made his prior crying seem almost gentle. I picked him back up and said hastily, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry. It's okay."

There was a soft, comfortable looking rocking chair in the room, so I thought I'd try that first. But no matter what position I put him up – up against my shoulder, lying across my lap, cradling him in my arms – he squirmed and fought and shrieked. I figured he'd wear himself out but after a few minutes and no progress, I pulled out my phone again to get tips on calming a crying baby. Rocking clearly wasn't working, but I started walking around, jiggling him a little and making ssshhhing sounds in his ear. He stopped screaming almost immediately, but it was nearly 15 minutes before his head rested against my shoulder once more. I was afraid to move my head to check if his eyes were closed, so I just kept him there for as long as I could.

Eventually my arms were giving out and I was actually terrified that I might drop him, so I ever so gently placed him in the crib. He stirred and his eyes shot open, and he let out a short cry. But then he rolled toward his side and stuck his thumb in his mouth and his eyes fluttered closed.

I was too afraid to wake him to let out a sigh of a relief, so I backed away from his crib, nearly falling over a small toy that made a squeaking sound as I stepped on it. I halted, holding my breath, but he didn't wake up.

I was halfway down the stairs, ready to take a nap of my own on the couch when I realized I wouldn't be able to hear him if he woke up. I knew they must have a baby monitor; it was one of the many presents Meghan had received during her long, arduous baby shower. But I couldn't find it, and I didn't want to disturb Meghan at the hospital, so I sat back down in that rocking chair and watched Devin sleep.

I hoped Jake was doing okay. After Glen's accident, we had all hoped that Jake's infatuation with construction would end, but even though his job didn't actually require him to be hands-on at their building sites, somehow he always inserted himself into situations he shouldn't be in. Devin looked just like his father, and I wondered in he'd be getting into the same kind of trouble years down the road.

I wondered if my baby would look like Eli.

I didn't even want to think about the kinds of trouble it would get into if it took after him.

As if on cue, my phone beeped, and I dug it out frantically, turning the ring to vibrate so that it wouldn't wake the baby. Eli's texts had been more frequent in the past week but we hadn't seen each other in person since I'd told him. At first we'd mostly focused on the baby, but lately, we'd been discussing other things.

_Mean Girls is on TBS _– was all his text said.

I smiled. _Mean Girls is ALWAYS on TBS. Shouldn't you be at school?_

His reply was just as fast as mine. _TV in the teachers' lounge. I know that's your favourite._

Before I could reply to tell him that while Mean Girls was an absolute classic, I'd seen a few amazing films in the last few years, the phone buzzed again, and it was Meghan calling. I backed out of the room again. "How's Jake?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

She sounded a little calmer than she was when she left the house. "Okay. He definitely broke a few bones and he's going to be in a cast for a while, but it could have been a lot worse. And it's his left hand fortunately, so he'll still be able to do a lot. He'll need physical therapy, but the doctors seems pretty positive."

"That's good," I said encouragingly.

"We're still waiting on the cast," she said. "Apparently today was a big day for broken limbs." I flinched a little. I knew it was optimistic but I was kind of hoping she would tell me she was on her way home. "How's Devvy?"

"Napping," I said, proud that I could give her a good answer. "It wasn't easy to get him down though."

She laughed. "It never is. How'd he do with the bottle?"

"He drank the whole thing…but he puked a bunch back up on me."

"Do you burp him?" she asked, a little accusingly.

"Yes," I said defensively. "But he still threw up."

"He does that sometimes," she said, the kindness returning to her voice. "I'm glad he's doing okay. He'll probably want to eat again a little after three."

Three? I glanced at my watch. That was only an hour away. "Will he wake up by then?"

She laughed again. "He always wakes up for a bottle. I think he's slept through one in the last six months. He's just like his Daddy – always eating."

I chuckled, although privately I was shocked that I'd just gotten through the last bottle and we were nearly back there again. Suddenly the bags under her eyes were starting to make sense. I remembered she'd mentioned that he'd started sleeping through the night during our last phone call and thought that was great until she clarified that meant he would sleep for five hours straight – a major accomplishment.

"Hey, where is the baby monitor?" I asked.

"On my dresser. Why?" she asked with a note of suspicion in her voice.

I couldn't admit that my pregnant body had taken all it could handle and I wanted to conk out on the couch. "I should wash the bottle so it's ready for next time. But I don't want to be out of earshot."

"Good idea," she said. "If you want to thaw another bag now, you can just put the bottle in the fridge until he's ready."

I smiled, remembering how dumb I had been before about making a bottle. I surprisingly felt a little more confident now. "So you mean I'm not supposed to pour directly from the spout of the milk bag into the baby's mouth?" I joked.

The phone went so silent that I thought the connection might have dropped. "Clare," Meghan said tightly. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Of course I'm joking," I said, rolling my eyes. I remembered the days when she and I would kick back in her dorm room, drinking a bottle of wine, and laughing about the stupidest things, and wondered if it was motherhood that made you lose your sense of humour or just growing up. "I remembered that babies don't drink regular milk just in time. Your perfect angel is just fine."

"Babies can't drink cow's milk until they are a year old, Clare" she said sternly, as if she were teaching a lesson to a child. "Hell, I can't even drink cow's milk right now because getting dairy secondhand gives him blowout diarrhea. And I don't even want to think about the potential allergic reactions."

Although I was pretty sure I never wanted to find out what blowout diarrhea was, I was certain she was overreacting. "Meghan…he's fine. I know I'm not the world's best baby-sitter, but I'm pretty sure I can keep him alive until you get home."

The background noise muffled for a second and I could tell she covered the phone with her hand. "We're probably going to be a while," she said briskly. "I'll call my sister. She can stay with Devin until we're home."

"Meghan," I said softly, feeling awful. "I can stay with him. We're fine. He's asleep and I will give him the correct bottle when he wakes up."

"Have you even checked his diaper yet?" she asked, and when I didn't answer, she sighed. "My sister is home with Teri," she said, referring to her three year old niece whom I hadn't met but had heard lots about. "She can be there in thirty minutes, I'm sure."

"Okay," I said softly, and I knew Meghan could tell I was hurt.

"It's fine, Clare. Let me call Jessica and if there's a problem, I'm sure my mom could do it. Or you could drop him off at Lisa's; she's usually good for a playdate."

"Whatever you want," I said, trying to hold back my tears.

Her sister Jessica arrived in less than 20 minutes, towing a chattering three year old behind her. She must have jumped in the car the moment that Meghan had called her, and I wondered just what Meghan had said about me to get her to move that quickly. I offered to stay and help but she waved me off. "I've got it, Clare," she chirped. "I watch Devvy all the time." It was that sing song voice again, but the baby was upstairs in the crib, and she was only using it on me. "I'm sure you want to get back to work," she added.

I bristled at her remark, trying to keep my cool, but finding it decidedly difficult after such a trying day. I wondered if Jessica's entire opinion of me was based on the fact that I had declined to be a bridesmaid in Meghan and Jake's wedding, because I'd felt as if I wouldn't be able to make the time commitment while working toward my promotion. I could understand that might be a sticking point for her – the matron of honour – but I'd been close with Meghan for years and I wondered if Meghan had never told her sister anything else about me, positive things.

Fortunately I managed not to say anything I'd regret. Meghan was already pissed at me and I knew making her sister upset wasn't going to fix anything. "Give Devvy a kiss for me," I said, trying out the nickname for the first time. It felt silly coming out of my mouth.

I got into the car and let the waterworks fall, hoping that Jessica wasn't looking out the window. I just kept thinking the same thing over and over: If I couldn't be trusted to babysit, how could I ever be a mother?

I must have been out there for nearly twenty minutes when my phone buzzed. _Too busy watching Aaron Samuels to talk to me?_

The corner of my mouth turned up ever so slightly. _Don't you ever teach?_

The phone buzzed immediately. _School's over._

I took a deep breath and typed back. _Do you have rehearsal or anything today? Because I think we need to talk_.

His reply took a little longer this time. _No rehearsal. Just lots of papers to grade but they can wait. Want to grab coffee?_

I flipped down the sunshade to look at myself in the mirror. I wasn't anywhere near presentable for public viewing. _Could you just meet me at my apartment? Maybe in an hour?_

I held my breath as I waited for his response.

_Sure_. _See you soon._


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Greetings dedicated readers! I know there was a long wait for this one, and I wish that weren't the case, but babies who don't want to nap, holidays, and sleepiness are not exactly a recipe for inspiration. I have a bunch of reading I need to do this week for a work event but I'm hoping to update more regularly after that point. **

**Thank you to LiteraryLolita for looking this over and letting me bounce ideas off her once again and for figuring out how to make this chapter and the next work better.  
**

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Chapter 11

"**But something about just being with you slapped me right in the face, nearly broke me in two. It's a mark I've taken to heart and I know I will carry it with me for a long, long time." Shatter by Liz Phair**

I arrived at my apartment before Eli thankfully, and pulled off my soiled blazer. The camisole I wore underneath wasn't really appropriate for public viewing. "Screw it," I mumbled to myself as I grabbed a set of black pajamas from my bottom dresser drawer. The top was formerly oversized but now it gently hugged my newly rounded belly. After hiding my pregnancy for so long, this was the first time I had really seen how my body looked outside of the shower.

It wasn't what I was used to, but I had to admit, it didn't look bad.

The intercom chimed and once Eli's voice confirmed it was him, I buzzed him up without responding. I didn't have the energy to climb down the stairs to meet him and the elevator in my building was too unreliable for me to consider using even at this early stage of my pregnancy. I had seen way too many sitcoms about pregnant women stuck in elevators to take that chance. The four flights were doable, but I always ended up winded halfway up the first flight. I had never been a gym-goer, but I walked nearly everywhere and considered myself to be in decent shape. Apparently babies took up a lot of your oxygen though because I found myself huffing and puffing at the slightest output of energy.

Eli rapped on the door lightly and I took a deep breath before answering. He smiled warmly at me before he glanced down at my stomach. "Woah," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that big."

"You're right; it's not," he said quickly. "I just…I didn't know you were showing yet."

I shrugged as I moved out of the way so he could come inside. "I can just barely hide it under certain clothes. But I don't think that's going to work for much longer."

Eli hesitated a few steps in from the doorway. "I was thinking we could get coffee. Or tea. Or whatever you can drink when you're pregnant."

"I'm not really dressed for that," I said.

"Come on," he said. "You've been cooped up in your apartment for days besides work. We can get ice cream if you'd prefer."

I inwardly reprimanded myself for giving Eli so many details of my current life during our text conversations. I had spent more time at home in the past two months than I had since I was in university; I was afraid that if I stepped outside my door, people would figure out that I was pregnant. "I don't have anything to wear that fits," I admitted.

"Wear that," he said. "Just put a jacket over it. Women go out in yoga pants all the time."

"Fine," I muttered, feeling myself give in to Eli's persuasive words for probably the millionth time. He had always been good at convincing me to do things I was unsure of, applying just enough pressure to get me to agree without ever doing anything to cross the line.

I led him to a nearby café that sort of reminded me of the Dot, except it was usually filled with university students rather than high school kids. He ordered his usual black coffee, and I ordered a hot fudge sundae. It wasn't busy and the waiter returned with our orders before we could really start talking. My sundae was enormous and had two spoons stuck in the side. I put the extra on the table, out of Eli's reach.

"How are you feeling?" he asked politely. At his insistence I had kept him apprised of the morning sickness via texts.

"Better overall. I haven't puked in over two weeks so that's progress, but I'm still pretty nauseous. The only thing I want to eat is sweets, so I have a feeling I'm not going to have trouble making my weight goal this month."

"Did you try that ginger tea? Cece said it was the only thing that worked for her when she was pregnant with me."

I shook my head. "I haven't had any time to get to the health food store. But the preggy pops are helping."

"Good," he said. I noticed for the first time that he looked nervous and that his hand had a slight tremor as he ran it through his hair. "So what did you want to talk about?"

I took a deep breath and repeated the words that had been racing through my mind every since I had walked out of Meghan's house. "I'm not sure that I can do this."

Eli narrowed his eyes. "Do what, exactly?"

I gestured at my stomach and his eyebrows shot up. "Isn't a little late for that? I mean, you're in the second trimester, right? And I thought you didn't want to..." He covered his face with his hands for a moment. "I mean…there's a little person in there now," he said, gesturing at my belly.

"No," I said shaking my head. "Not that…I told you…I couldn't do that…I just…" I had to look away from Eli. "I'm worried I'm going to be a terrible mother."

I was deadly serious but Eli chuckled in response. "Clare….you're going to be fine."

"I don't think so," I said. "I babysat Jake's son for two hours today and I practically killed him, barely got him down for a nap, and never even thought of changing his diaper."

At the look on my face, Eli swallowed another beal of laughter, and his tone turned serious. "I'm sure you didn't practically kill him," he said patiently.

"According to Meghan, I did. I almost gave him cow's milk which babies are apparently not supposed to drink until they are a year old. Did you know that? I didn't know that."

"I did not know that," he said. "But you clearly didn't give him the poisonous milk, so I'm sure everything was fine."

"I don't know anything about babies. I babysat for about a month back in Grade nine and that was for older kids."

"You've got a few more months left. You'll learn what to do."

I shook my head. "He could have been allergic to the milk."

"The milk that you didn't give him…" Eli said slowly.

"But I could have."

"You wouldn't have…if you weren't sure you would have called Meghan or googled it. You're a smart girl, Clare. Just because you were thrown into a babysitting situation without any warning or planning doesn't mean you're going to be a bad mother. I babysat for my cousin a few years ago and his mother left me two pages of typed instructions – and that kid was nine."

"You might not know this but babies don't exactly pop out holding an instruction manual," I said dryly.

"They have these things called _books_," Eli said, his tone a lot less understanding than it had been up until this point. "You may have heard of them. Your apartment is overflowing with them."

"Thanks for the reminder that I'm a terrible housekeeper too," I muttered, more to myself than to Eli.

"Clare," he said gently, and I looked up at his open expression. "I think you had a bad day and I think that becoming a parent is scary and that your pregnancy hormones are doing a number on you right now. You're going to be a good mother, because you're a good person. And even with all of your parents' many flaws, the one thing they did right was to raise you well."

"How are you so calm about this?" I asked. Even in his better days, it had been difficult for Eli to deal with difficult situations, and I had no idea how he was faring so much better than I was.

He shrugged. "I wasn't at first."

I recalled how he had blown up at me once he realized I hadn't been on the pill. "Yeah but that only lasted a few minutes. By the end of the conversation, you seemed fine with it."

Eli looked confused. "I was trying to keep myself under control in front of you. I got back to my condo and practically broke my hand on a brick wall and then drank the better part of a bottle of whiskey to dull the pain rather than going to the emergency room."

"Oh," I said. Part of me was almost relieved that he wasn't quite as cool as a cucumber as I'd thought, but it also reminded me of the darker Eli, the one that had frightened me so much in high school.

"I started about fifteen emails to you, begging you to reconsider having an abortion." He coughed and took a sip of his coffee. "If you were any other girl on the planet, I would have sent them."

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn't sure how to respond to that. "What made you change your mind?"

"About the emails?"

"About the baby."

He gave a short laugh. "It was Lauren, actually."

"What?" I gasped.

"I told you I'd end things with her that night, but I couldn't because, you know, I was too wasted to drive, and casual or not, three years deserves an in person break up."

I looked down. Apparently our relationship hadn't been significant enough to warrant the same respect. But Eli clearly didn't make the connection and continued, "So the next night we went out to dinner and I told her I had to stop seeing her, and she was pretty pissed."

"I'm not sure I need to know all of this," I said. I was holding my head in my hands at this point, wondering if it was really possible that this day was about to get worse.

He held up his hand. "I'll get to the point. She asked if there was another woman, one that I was serious about." He paused for a second as if he wasn't sure how to word his response. "And I told her that it was serious because I had gotten someone pregnant."

"I'm sure she was thrilled," I said dryly.

"She was not," he confirmed. "But then I mentioned the girl was you."

I glanced up at him. Had he…had he told her about me?

"She didn't make the connection when she saw your name on the caller ID that day you called. But I guess she saw it on my face or heard it in my voice."

"I don't understand," I said softly.

Eli sighed. "Look, she's always been more of a best friend than a girlfriend to me, and it wasn't…it wasn't the first time she had heard me talk about you. She knew about our relationship and what we went through and how…how I had felt about you."

"I see," I said. I felt like this conversation was heading into a direction I wasn't ready for, and was kind of hoping for the floor to open up and send me into a gaping chasm so I didn't have to sit here for the rest of it.

"She told me this was my chance…to step up and do things right this time. And I told her that's what I intended to do, but I wasn't sure I could." He gave me a soft smile. "She was the one who convinced me that I could do this – for you and the baby."

"Does that mean you broke up?" I asked, unsure of why I was so desperate to hear the answer.

He nodded. "We'll probably still grab dinner together every now and then, but as friends. The sex is over; we both agreed."

"You didn't need to do that," I said, repeating my words from the last time we had discussed this, but even I could hear that the sentiment was empty. I tried to convince myself that it was because Eli should be focused on his child and that a casual girlfriend would create an awkward situation for the baby, but I knew that wasn't it.

I didn't want to be with Eli. But I didn't want him to be with anyone else either.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked, and I could tell he was trying to bring the conversation back to the original topic, rather than continuing to discuss his romantic entanglements.

I sighed. "A little, I guess." I knew I couldn't tell him that just being around him made me feel less alone in this. I moved my spoon through the melting ice cream. I hadn't been as hungry as I had thought and my stomach ached a little.

I stuck the extra spoon in the sundae and pushed it over to Eli without a word. He looked at me curiously as he licked the ice cream off the spoon. "Cece was telling me that the hospitals have classes."

I tried to picture me and Eli, sitting on a yoga mat, practicing breathing. "I don't think I'm a Lamaze kind of girl."

He laughed. "Yeah, I don't think that's my style either. But they have classes on infant care – diapers and stuff. And breastfeeding too; I don't know if you're interested in that."

The concept didn't sound that appealing to me but in my cursory research I had read about twenty articles lauding the breast as best. "That might be a good idea." His eyes were a bit narrowed, as if he were considering something, and I added generously, "We could take one together."

"I like that idea," he said, smiling.

"I still haven't told my mother," I said. "I was going to tell Meghan today but then Jake was in the hospital…"

"Is he okay?" Eli asked, looking alarmed.

I nodded. "Broken hand, but he'll be okay in a few months. Construction accident."

Eli winced. "If you want me to be there when you tell your parents, I'm willing." He laughed. "I didn't think it was possible for your mother to hate me more than she already did, but I guess we'll find that out."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said.

"You should tell her soon." He gestured at my stomach. "If you don't, she's going to figure it out."

"You're right," I said glumly. "And my job too. People are already starting to whisper. I gave up a huge, life altering article because I didn't feel up to traveling and I never would have done that if I wasn't pregnant."

"Clare," Eli said gently. "I know the timing isn't what you wanted, and I'm sure…I'm sure I'm not the guy you wanted this to happen with. But you always used to talk about wanting kids, and now that you're having one…you just don't seem happy about it."

I shrugged, unable to answer his question. It was something I had been considering for the last few weeks. I had wanted kids; I had never really considered the idea of not having them. But for a long time, I was certain I'd never find someone I'd want to spend the rest of my life with and the idea of kids and a house and a wedding had moved from the "definitely" column to the "maybe someday" column in my hypothetical life planner.

"I'm sure I will be. I just haven't gotten there yet," I said. He looked skeptical. "This is helping. You're helping," I said, feeling embarrassed that I had revealed so much. "I mean, talking this out. If we weren't here right now, I'd probably be at home googling adoption agencies or something."

His jaw dropped. "You're not serious, are you? Because I've been pretty supportive of whatever you want, but that's really not an option for me."

"Really?" I was surprised at his vehemence. I hadn't been entirely serious but I couldn't believe it was something he would completely refuse to consider.

Eli looked at me as if I were crazy. "Clare, we're adults. We have careers and families and don't have substance abuse problems. We can raise a kid. The only reason you give up a kid for adoption is to give them a better life, and there's no guarantee that kid would have a better life with other people. They probably wouldn't, to be frank." He took a deep breath after his outburst, but he still seemed to be on edge. "If you're serious…if you don't want to be in this baby's life…I'll do it. I'll do it on my own if I have to."

"Eli, I…" I didn't know what to say. I knew he was handling the situation better than I was but I had no idea he was this serious. "I want to be in this baby's life. I just don't have it all figured out yet."

"You need to," he said, though his tone was gentle. "You need to stop pretending this isn't happening and start accepting it."

"I'm not pretending," I mumbled, but I knew he was telling the truth. "It's just hard."

He shook his head. "You think it's not hard for me? I wasn't even planning on having kids."

"What?" I asked in confusion. "That's not true."

Eli shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. "It is, actually."

I shook my head. "In high school, you talked about it. And you were always running around after the little kids at your family gatherings. There was that Purim party at your aunt's where you hid in the coat closet and kept scaring the kids."

"I like kids," he corrected. "But I had decided that I wasn't going to have any."

I narrowed my eyes at him. I distinctly remembered multiple conversations we'd had about the future, and Eli saying he hoped to have a little girl with my blue eyes one day. "When exactly did you decide that?"

He looked away. "When I found out I was bipolar."

I stared at him, my face softening, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. He had gotten his diagnosis during the period where we had broken up, and months later, when we had reunited, he hadn't mentioned that his future outlook had changed so dramatically. I knew that I must have continued including him in my dream conversations, planning out his NYU career and mine at Columbia and our eventual marriage and children, and I didn't remember him ever contradicting me. I wanted to ask him if our different desires had anything to do with him breaking up with me, but that was a wound I didn't want to revisit at this moment.

Before I could come up with something to say, he continued, "It can be genetic, you know. So we'll have to keep an eye out."

I reached over and touched his hand briefly. "We know what to look out for. It wouldn't be as bad as it was for you." I remembered the months where Eli was starting to fall apart. He was overprotective and aggressive and irrational, and I had no idea what was causing it. It was so easy to look back and be critical of myself and how I had handled the situation, but even all these years later, the confusion and pain his uncontrolled illness had caused me was still palpable.

He nodded, and his eyes looked a little glassy. He had done such a good job of cheering me up and had opened up to me, and I felt like I needed to repay the favour. I didn't want him to leave this conversation on a low-point, and I really didn't want to drag the details of his current therapy and medicinal regimen out of him to make sure that he was on track, since I knew how much he hated when people meddled in his mental health.

I picked up my spoon and took one last scoop out of the sundae we were now sharing. "You know what the weirdest thing about being pregnant is?" I asked, forcing a peppy tone into my voice, before lowering it to complete the thought. "It makes you really horny…like, all the time."

The distraction worked like a charm. Eli's face lit up and I could tell he was thrilled by the fact that I had volunteered this information when I never would have spoken the word "horny" aloud back when we were still dating. "All the time, really?" he teased. "I guess your little purple friend is getting quite a workout."

And of course, my attempt to make him feel better had completely backfired on me. I scrunched up my face in embarrassment. "Never speak of that again," I warned.

"Like that's going to happen," he scoffed. He filled his spoon with the remaining ice cream and swirled it in his mouth suggestively, and I groaned.

"You are awful." I hadn't actually been feeling aroused at the moment I brought it up, but there was something about being around Eli that always made me think about being with him.

He leaned in. "Hey, you know, I'm single now." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "So if you ever need someone to take care of that for you, you just let me know."

I gestured for the waiter to bring us the check without responding and Eli laughed. "It is so easy to get under your skin."

"Don't worry," I said, throwing a few bills on the table so I could leave before I decided to do something I'd regret. "I'm not as easy as you think I am."


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Thank you all for reading this story. Particularly those of you who have reviewed or tweeted or Tumblr messaged. It really means a lot to me that people are enjoying this story and particularly the treatment of the characters and the fact that it doesn't read like every other pregnancy fic.**

**That being said, I am getting the sense that some people are frustrated with the pacing of this story. But the thing is, this story is much longer than the ones I've written in the past. Usually I finish a story in about 12 chapters, and this will be over twice that length. So we're not even at the halfway point. And while I'm sure you'd love to read a non-stop Eclare sex fest, that's not really what I write. So I'm hoping you stick with me even when it looks like things are bad. I've written a lot of fics. You should know how this ends.**

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Chapter 12

"**I never kissed somebody so that they would break my heart. That's not what I want." Wishing Heart by Lisa Loeb**

I was stuck spending my weekend catching up on work. After taking a personal day on Thursday, it was all I could do to scrape together enough attention to get my articles ready for Sunday's edition. But Wednesday was looming and I had a review scheduled for Tuesday for a book I hadn't even had time to read. I tried to rationalize that I hadn't gotten the advanced copy earlier enough to meet my self-imposed deadline of one week before press date, but I knew the delay had everything to do with how distracted I was.

How distracted Eli had made me.

I hated to admit it, but his offer of sex had thrown me for a loop. It was a joke, obviously; he was just trying to get a rise out of me. But the problem was that it had worked. And the pregnancy hormones had gone from irritating to out of control. A fleeting image of Eli pressing me into a bed had been enough to frustrate me so much at work that I'd finally adjourned to the bathroom of my office to take care of things as quickly as humanly possible.

I just kept remembering how his hands had felt roaming over my body, how it had felt to lose control with him for the very first time. We'd had sex numerous times in high school, following months and months of foreplay, but it had never been quite as intense as this time. It was desperate and aggressive. Unlike our romantic but awkward high school fumblings, I had sought pleasure, rather than an emotional connection – and consequences aside, the mission had been a success.

Would it really be such a mistake to try it again?

We were adults. There was nothing wrong with having sex for fun. Eli had clearly been doing plenty of that with Lauren for the past three years and it wasn't like I'd been deeply in love with Michael – or even Jonathan to some extent.

But I had been deeply in love with Eli.

And now I was…in truth, I didn't know.

It didn't help that he'd been texting me non-stop since Thursday. He hadn't brought up what we had discussed and he hadn't even been as overtly flirty as usual. But with Eli, there were always suggestive undertones, and I read into each one, wondering what he was really thinking.

He was currently live-texting the birthday party he was attending for his cousin's four year old daughter, so it was giving me a little bit of a break from the constant teasing. But despite the fact that I was curled up in my bed, engrossed in the new Laini Taylor that I needed to finish for a review, every time my phone buzzed I immediately put down my Kindle and read Eli's text.

_Cake time. It looks like they are tearing Cinderella limb from limb. Pretty gross. It's making me hope we have a boy. Gotta go so I can get a piece before they're all gone._

Mmmmm…cake. It was easy to set aside the gross image of princess dismemberment and think about how good that would taste right now. I had tried to make myself a healthy dinner – cooking an actual meal for the first time in ages – but the grilled chicken breast gave me a fresh wave of nausea and I just barely choked down the broccoli and rice.

_I'm jealous,_ I texted back quickly. _I've been craving something sweet all day._

Despite the fact that Eli had sounded like he was ending the conversation, he responded right away. _I can bring you a piece_. _If you want._

I didn't know what to say to that. I assumed it was yet another joke, and it was easier to brush him off than to admit I wanted to see him. I sent him a simple, _Ha ha._

_ I'm serious._

I stared at those words. It was amazing to me that Eli and I were both writers yet our text communication was so inscrutable. He was telling me he was serious but I just pictured him sitting there with a smirk on his face, enjoying the fact that I might be interested in seeing him, while holding all of the control.

_I have a lot of work to finish tonight. I wouldn't want you to distract me._

It was a rejection certainly. But I was rejecting his less than sincere offer while still flirting just enough that if he were interested, he'd know to make a move.

_I know that feeling. Once this party is over, I have about four hours of grading to do. I wanted to get it done Thursday but *somebody* wanted to see me._

I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at his response. I almost put the phone down and went back to my book but I couldn't help but nag him a bit. I knew he'd gone to a concert on Friday night but it wasn't _my_ fault he hadn't gotten his grading done at any point this weekend.

_You should have done your grading yesterday. Such a procrastinator._

His response took a little longer and I wondered if he had gotten distracted. _I was out with Cece yesterday…looking at cribs and strollers and stuff._

I stared at his text for nearly a minute before responding. Was that his responsibility? Who was this crib for? We hadn't really discussed custody or where the baby would live and when. And I certainly hadn't done any shopping for baby equipment. The thought of it made me vaguely nervous, especially as I looked around my small, packed apartment.

_Did you buy anything?_ I felt my throat closing a little as I waited for his answer, and tugged at the neckline of my pajama shirt, feeling hot and suffocated.

_ Not yet. Just looking. But we should probably sit down sometime and talk about that kind of stuff._

_ You're right,_ I conceded. _But I really need to get back to this work._

I turned my phone off, knowing that if I received more texts from Eli we'd be having a conversation I wasn't ready to have. I wanted to talk to the flirty, intriguing Eli – not the practical, 'let's plan our future' Eli.

Fortunately, diving back into my reading took my mind off Eli, sex, and our future. The book was incredible – almost too good, in fact, since I'd long ago stopped taking notes for my review as I read and I knew I'd have to go back and reread later tonight. There were so many amazing quotes that I could have screen highlighted every page – and I knew Angela would be spending a lot of time on the phone with Little, Brown tomorrow, confirming final wording since the book could frankly speak for itself.

The two lovers were finally about to share a long-awaited kiss and the involuntary gasp I let out turning into a shriek when my intercom buzzed, tearing me from the book's dream world. I sat in bed, catching my breath as I waited for the intruder to go away, fully expected that he or she had pressed the wrong button. But a second, longer buzz followed, and I reluctantly climbed out of bed. "Hello?"

"It's me."

Eli.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I brought you something sweet. Can you buzz me in?"

I looked down at my ill-fitting pajamas. I hadn't left the apartment all day and I wasn't dressed for company. "Okay," I said weekly, holding down the buzzer.

I raced into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and reapply my deodorant before Eli arrived. Fortunately he must have taken the elevator because it took a few minutes. There wasn't much I could do about the outfit, but I remembered that Eli and I had dated during the time when Degrassi had hideous school uniforms; he had seen me in much worse.

When I opened the door, he held out a bag from Loblaws. "Half Baked," he said. "There was no cake left, so I got this instead."

I pulled out a carton of my favourite ice cream, noting that there was a second container of Chubby Hubby at the bottom – Eli's favourite. "That's very sweet," I said, noticing the pun after the words had come out of my mouth. "But you didn't have to go to the trouble."

He smiled. "No trouble. I figured you could use a treat after working yourself to the bone all weekend."

I looked at the Kindle lying on my bed next to my notebook of hastily scratched review notes and a stack of articles requiring a second look. "I still have a lot to do," I said wistfully.

"That's fine," he said, holding up a messenger bag. "I brought my grading."

I raised my eyebrows at him. It was pretty presumptuous of him to show up at 9 p.m. on a Sunday night, bearing ice cream and work. But after being cooped up the whole day, it would be nice to have some company. And it was really nice of him to bring me something I'd been craving.

"Come in," I said, and Eli's face lit up. He plopped down on my bed, pushing piles of paper out of the way as I grabbed two spoons from the kitchen.

We chatted briefly while we ate our ice cream, but soon we were both engrossed in work. I wouldn't have thought that I'd be comfortable sitting next to Eli while attempting to read and review a novel, but surprisingly I managed to avoid getting distracted. At the end of a chapter, I glanced at him and he scrawled notes in red pen on a student's paper. I was starting to feel a little bit of déjà vu and couldn't help but note, "It feels like we're back in high school."

He looked up and me and smiled. "You're right. Doing homework together on your bed." He stretched out his arms over his head. "Except now I'm the one giving the homework."

I chuckled. "I'm still reading and writing essays about books. Not much has changed for me."

"Except you usually don't have your always awesome first reader next to you anymore," he smirked. His eyes widened as if he had just remembered something and he started digging through his bag. "I have your story."

In all of the pregnancy craziness, I had completely forgotten that Eli had taken my story with him after we had slept together. I stared at him in trepidation, afraid of what he would say about it. "We don't really need to talk about that."

"Clare…it was amazing." I looked at him skeptically and he continued. "Well, maybe not amazing. But it could be. It's such a strong foundation and there are moments that are just perfect."

"You don't have to say that. I know it's not very good."

"You're wrong," he said emphatically, placing his hand on my forearm. He flipped through the pages and pulled out a sheaf of lined notebook paper he'd attached to the back. "I wasn't sure if you'd want me to write on this, but I made some notes."

I remembered when Jonathan had finally read it, after weeks of having it in his possession. He was positive about it, but he had no specific points to make. The characters were good, and the writing was good, and he really liked it, but that was all I got. I hadn't expected Eli to take the story with him and give me copious notes on an 80 page story.

He glanced at me to make sure I was okay with hearing his critique and I held his gaze, unwilling to commit to this exercise. I knew he could sense my doubts but it didn't keep him from continuing. "First of all, I'm really impressed with your writing. I mean, on a sentence-level, you've improved tremendously since high school. It's probably all of those articles you've written where you have to fit a lot of information into low word counts."

I shook my head. "I wrote this in university. I haven't even looked at it in years."

Eli looked impressed. "Wow, really? There are hardly any words to cut out. I know you've always been less wordy than me but even so…I'm impressed, Edwards."

"Thanks," I said softly.

"I have two concerns. One is pretty easy to fix, but the other…not so much."

"What's the easy one?"

He flipped through the pages here. "This scene here. The argument she has with Dylan. It's a little too obvious. I think you could cut the whole scene to be honest. It's not adding anything. We already know he's not right for her."

I couldn't keep a wry smile off my face. The story hadn't been autobiographical, but I had written it during a time in my life when I was trying to figure out if being in a relationship with Jonathan was really what I wanted. I had couched the feelings I'd had in enough fiction that the metaphor wasn't glaringly obvious – even to Jonathan when he'd read it. But he'd never noticed my hesitations either in person or on the page and it was interesting that Eli had picked up on that immediately.

"Makes sense. What's the hard one?"

He took a deep breath as if he were worried what my reaction would be. "It's a little thin. I mean, I know it's a novella, but you've only got this main plot. And it's just about this relationship and this guy and at the end she leaves him and sleeps with Josh and the story itself is good but it could go deeper. I mean, you have the hints with the mother and she brings up religion and she has her career but you use them as set decoration. I think if you dig a little deeper into the character, she could have more going on in her life than just a bad boyfriend."

"I should try to get back to it," I commented. "Easier to dig deeper when you actually have some life experience."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this based on a true story?"

I shook my head. "No…it's just…" I sighed. "Naïve."

"You should work on it. Add a character or two and a subplot and you'd really have something. I've got a contact at Little, Brown if you want me to send it along once you're ready."

I laughed. "I'm a book review editor at one of the most prestigious papers in the world; I have publishing contacts." But his comment brought to mind the awkward phone conversation with Lauren. "Whatever happened with that?" He looked at me in confusion. "You were trying to get something published with Hachette? Lauren mentioned it that time I called you." My voice petered out at the end of my statement.

He frowned. "Didn't go anywhere. Market's too contracted for them to take a chance on publishing a play by an unknown. It's pretty amazing that the editor saw my play in New York and contacted me at all."

"I'm sorry," I said, touching his sleeve gently.

He shrugged. "I put it out with Playscripts like I always do. Some indie university theatre groups will buy it. Can't expect mainstream sales with niche theatre anyway."

"I'd love to read one of your plays," I said sincerely. My tone caused him to look directly into my eyes as I continued. "Or see one staged. That would be even better."

"I'm in the middle of one now. Having trouble…you could give me some notes," he suggested, his voice rising as if he was unsure I would agree, but I nodded encouragingly.

"I can't believe you read this…and that you liked it. No one else really did. My mother hated it."

He raised an eyebrow. "You let Helen read this? With that sex scene? I'm surprised she's not still at the church praying for your salvation."

I blushed. "I wrote that scene after I let her read it. It was the last thing I did before I gave up on it." I'd always wondered if that was what had kept Darcy from talking to me again. I'd been young when she left but I knew what had happened to her, and I never quite knew if she'd been able to reconcile the violent experience she'd had with actual, consensual sex. When I hadn't heard back from her, I'd set the story aside, figuring that if the three people in the world I cared about most hadn't found value in the story that there was none to be found.

I glanced at Eli, completely unsurprised by his smirk. "It was…really hot," he said. "Definitely my favourite part."

"Of course it was," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm serious," he insisted. "You know, I asked if this was autobiographical because there were so many moments where I was reading about Kate but I was seeing or hearing you. There's so much of you in her, and in that scene in particular, it really comes through."

I thought of the scene where my introverted narrator meets a man who is a worthy match for her, unlike her recently ended relationship with Dylan. She summons all of her courage and seduces him, taking control of the situation from start to finish. It was exactly the opposite of every sexual experience I'd had with Eli in high school, and I couldn't fathom how he could have made that connection in the scene. "That's not true. I'm nothing like her in bed," I said, practically whispering the last words.

Eli leaned in close and placed his hand gently on my chin. I held my breath as he spoke. "Yes, you are," he insisted. "You're the kind of girl who is deeply passionate about everything she cares about. Whenever you find something that's meaningful to you, you give every bit of yourself to it." His thumb grazed my jaw and I felt my lips parting unconsciously. "It is so sexy, Clare. _You_ are so sexy."

To my shock, I was the one who leaned in and connected our lips. But Eli responded immediately, sliding his hand to cup the back of my neck and pull me closer to him. I heard the crunching of papers as I shifted my weight toward him, and without breaking our kiss, Eli swept his stack of work off the bed. I nervously did the same, praying that the case was good enough to protect my Kindle as it flew a little more gingerly toward the floor.

The next thing I knew I was on my back and Eli was on top of me. I could tell he was nervous and he held his weight off of me with unsteady arms, just grazing our bodies together. I rolled us over so we were on our sides, our limbs tangled, mouths searching. His hand slipped up the back of my shirt and the feelings of his fingertips on my bare skin made me shiver. Much like the boy I remembered from high school, he made quick work of my bra, unfastening the clasp before he'd even removed my shirt or touched my breasts.

The kissing was good – really good – and my hormones were pleased that their urges were finally being stoked by the caress of another. But my brain hesitated. As much as my body wanted release, the rational part of me knew this was a bad idea. It was Eli – my ex, the father of my unborn child…a guy who I'd once loved and had just barely developed a friendship with. This was the most complicated situation I'd ever been in, and it made me long for the days of simple Jonathan or even 14 year old puppy love crushes with K. C.

But as Eli's hands moved down my body, I knew I wasn't going to stop this. It felt _too_ good, and I needed something good in my life right now. Even if it was just sex. Even if it was messy.

I tried to move things along by responding more deeply to his kisses, trying to kick up the intensity and give him a sign that the sweet and gentle pacing was no longer enough. He seemed to get the hint and once I tugged on his shirt, he sat up to remove it. While he knelt over me, I started to unbutton my pajama top, giving him a seductive look while my fingers opened each fastener. Eli watched eagerly and once I'd finished he pulled the fabric from me along with my loosened bra.

I couldn't help but giggle at the expression on his face. Even at 27, Eli still had the same fascination with women's breasts. I could still remember the look on his face the first time I had let him remove my shirt, nearly 10 years ago, and even with all of his experience – and the numerous times we'd done this together – his expression wasn't all that different.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as he pressed our chests together and buried his face in my neck. His hands came up to feel me and though he was still keeping most of his weight to the side of me, he had placed his leg between mine, rocking gently against me where I needed the friction most.

He lips followed a familiar path – lips, jaw, neck, collarbone – deeper into my cleavage. Before his lips could wrap around my nipple, he paused. "I think these got bigger," he said, jabbing his finger into the side of my breast in a decidedly unsexy way.

"Since high school?" I squeaked, fighting the urge to cover them from his view.

"Since last time," he said, feeling my left breast in an almost clinical manner.

I pushed his hand away, rolling my eyes. "They have not." My pregnancy book had said that might happen, but as far as I could tell I was the same D cup I'd been since Grade 11. I figured my boobs were big enough to begin with that they wouldn't need to get larger during pregnancy.

But Eli's examination had just about killed my mood and as he shrugged and returned his mouth to my nipple, I couldn't help but think about how he was currently suckling me but in a few months, my breasts be used for a completely different purpose. To my horror I'd read that women sometimes start producing small amounts of breast milk before the baby arrived – drops that would announce themselves as wet circles on their clothing. It hadn't happened to me yet and probably wouldn't for a few more months, but I couldn't help but feel paranoid that Eli's sucking and nibbling that usually felt so good might lead to a gross accident. He didn't seem to notice how I'd grown a stiffer and less comfortable and I ended up tugging on his hair to remind him to return to my lips.

It was impossible not to get swept back up in Eli's kisses, especially as his hands moved down my body and tugged at the waistband on my pants. He moved his mouth to my ear and murmured, "I want to go down on you. I owe you, from last time."

"That's right; you do," I whimpered, spreading my legs involuntarily and hoping he'd get on with it.

"That was so hot when you sucked my cock," he growled, tugging gently on my earlobe with his teeth. "You didn't do that often back in the day."

Did we really need to talk about this? "I was young then. Inexperienced," I said though it was a rather obvious statement. I wiggled my hips as if to bring his attention back to the matter at hand, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I read somewhere that women taste different when they're pregnant."

"What is this…sex or a science experiment?" I joked, reaching down to touch him through his pants and try to get to stop talking. Eli had never been chatty during sex, and I was starting to feel glad about that. If he'd gone on like this back in the day, we probably never would have gotten to finish line. "You promised you'd reciprocate," I reminded him.

"Alright, alright," he said with a laugh, finally getting the picture. He didn't immediately take off my pants, but for a few minutes, his tongue practiced its delicious moves inside my mouth before trailing down my body.

Unfortunately, he stopped a few centimetres before his destination. He placed a kiss on my rounded belly. "Hi baby," he said in a slightly high pitched voice before looking up at me and returning to normal. "Do you think it can hear me?"

"Oh my God," I said, sitting up so quickly that I nearly knocked Eli off the bed. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Eli asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"I can't have sex with you," I said, fumbling for my pajama top, not bothering with the bra.

"Why not?" he asked, more concerned than angry.

"Because!" I shrieked, jumping off the bed. "Because you can't just leave well enough alone."

He stared at me. "Look if you don't want to have sex that's fine, but I really don't understand what the problem is."

"I want to have sex," I said. "But you have to go and turn this into something else."

"And what exactly would that be?" he asked dryly, pulling his own shirt over his head.

"You were acting like we're together…God, Eli, you just talked to my stomach."

"Okay that was probably ill-timed," he conceded. "But it was the first time I'd gotten to see it and I couldn't help myself."

"It's the last time," I said emphatically.

Eli stood up on the opposite side of the bed. "I don't understand, Clare. We've been talking for weeks. The other night at the diner…it seemed like we were connecting." He gave me a sad look. "I don't know what else you want me to do."

I closed my eyes. "I don't want anything from you."

"We're having a baby together," he said as if he were reminding me of the one fact I'd never be able to forget.

"No shit," I said, unable to control myself.

"What the hell did I do, Clare? Why are you standing there pissed off at me when three minutes ago you wanted to sleep with me?"

"Three minutes ago, I wanted to have an orgasm," I said cruelly. "You just happened to show up at my door unannounced."

"Is that why you're mad? Because I didn't call to ask if I could come over before I brought you ice cream and made out with you."

"I'm mad because you cheated on me and now I can't fucking get rid of you," I shouted.

Eli took a step back at my outburst. "That's what this is about? It's been seven fucking years, Clare. You have to get over this."

"Yeah well," I said, my vehemence falling apart as the tears took over. "It may have been seven years but it's something I'll never forget."

He shook his head sadly. "I didn't even cheat on you."

His tone was soft…regretful even.

Mine wasn't.

"Get out!" I screeched, picking up his messenger bag from the floor and throwing it at him.

"Clare?" he asked, sounding shocked. I started picking up the papers as well and throwing them back at him as well.

"I already don't trust you, and you're going to come here and lie to me…" I was seething with fury, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I could hear it. "I want you to stay out of my life. Whatever this is…it's over."

He was gathering his things frantically, realizing that I was seconds away from pummeling him, but he paused at my words. "The baby…?" he trailed off.

"The baby deserves better than a lying, cheating bastard for a father," I spat. I wrenched the door open and Eli to his credit walked out.

"Call me when you've calmed down," he said, his face a mess of emotions that I couldn't read.

I slammed the door in his face.


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Thank you for reading! You have no idea how much your continued support means to me.  
**

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Chapter 13

"**You want to dance with the angels? Then embroider me with gold, and I will fly with the angels, and you can dance with me." Dance with the Angels by Lisa Loeb**

The church was boiling hot but I kept my jacket on. I'd discovered that weekend that maternity clothes accentuate, rather than hide your pregnant belly, and my new plain black dress didn't have the slimming effect that I usually looked for in clothes. I had noticed my mother giving me a sideways glance before the service started but she hadn't said anything and now was watching the start of Devin's baptism with misty eyes.

Neither Meghan nor Jake was very religious, and her childhood church was hours away, so they had decided to hold the christening at mine. I had attempted to keep up regular attendance, trying to make amends for my newsworthy exit after Darcy's funeral, but it had been a few weeks, as I'd been afraid of causing even more rumours with my growing belly. Usually I was able to hide in the back row, sitting next to Mrs. Schweitzer, who was both hard of hearing and at the very beginning of memory loss, but of course, as Devin's family, we were seated in the front row.

I was sitting in the exact same spot as I was at Darcy's funeral.

I watched Devin's baptism but I couldn't say that it really meant much to me. I'd seen plenty over the years, complete with screaming child, and they all kind of blended together. I kept thinking about how in a few months, I'd be the one standing at the front of the church, baptizing my own child. It was something that was important to me symbolically and I knew it would happen but I just couldn't picture it.

Would Eli stand next to me, holding our child while the pastor made the sign of the cross on the baby's forehead? I knew Eli thought religion was bullshit, and even if he didn't, Eli was Jewish, not Christian. But I couldn't imagine that he wouldn't let me baptize our child, knowing how much it meant to me. I cringed at the thought, knowing this was exactly the kind of thing you were supposed to work out before you got pregnant – yet another thing I had screwed up. I still hadn't spoken to him in the week since our fight, and he hadn't made any attempt to reach out either.

Meghan's sister, Jessica, and her husband were reciting their vows as godparents, and I couldn't help but feel a little left out. As far as I knew, they weren't regular churchgoers anymore than Jake and Meghan were, and I couldn't help but think that I would have been far more suitable in that role. But I couldn't fault Meghan; she and her sister had always been close, and she and I had grown apart from our close friendship in university. If I were her, I would have made the same choice.

But with a sinking heart, I remembered that Darcy, who would have been the perfect godmother, wasn't going to be a choice for me.

Who would stand up there with me? Jake and Meghan, I supposed. I'd never been close with my cousins, and I certainly wouldn't choose my father's girlfriend's kids. There was Alli, of course, but though my church wasn't as strict as some about religious affiliation, I was fairly certain that a Muslim turned atheist wasn't exactly going to fly – and that was if she'd even be willing to tear herself away from her research for a weekend.

I wondered if Eli would have an opinion on godparents. There was no doubt in my mind that if things had gone differently, if we had stayed together, if we'd gotten married after university and gotten pregnant after that…we would have asked Adam to be our child's godfather.

Ugh, between thinking of Darcy and Adam, tears were filling my eyes as my hormones made these depressed feelings even more intense. Fortunately, my mother cries at the slightest sentimental provocation, and her full-on sobs as the baptism concluded made my teardrops look normal.

The service progressed and I went through the motions, standing, sitting, whispering along with hymns I used to sing proudly. I was thirsty and I wished I had thought to bring a bottle of water along with me and wondered how much of a scene I would make if I snuck down the aisle and made a trek downstairs to the water fountain.

Pastor Daniels stepped up to the pulpit and began his sermon. "Whenever we celebrate a baptism of a brand new life, I'm always reminded of my own sons. It's been a long time since they were babies; as you know, Tommy is 20 now and David is two years younger. They are both off in university, and it's been a few months since they've made it back home."

I knew Pastor's sons well; I had even been David's Sunday School teacher for a year when I was still at Degrassi. They were pretty nice kids although I knew that Tommy had done a bit of rebelling back in high school that had worried Pastor and his wife. University life apparently suited him and I was sure being out from under his father's supervision might have helped a bit.

"When I look back, at the years of watching baseball games and homework help and school plays, I am so proud of my sons and what they've accomplished. And I'm proud of my wife and the dedication she made to helping my boys turn out to be the men they become. And I'm particularly proud of the father that I became…because the truth is that when Tommy was little Devin's age, I wasn't a very good father."

I few people in the congregation chuckled as if they knew what was coming, but I sat up a little, curious as to where this anecdote was going. I'd known Pastor for more than 15 years and the stories he used for his sermons were frequently repeated, but I hadn't heard this one before. Pastor wasn't the type to be self-deprecating, and while he didn't always make himself out to be the hero in his stories, I couldn't recall one where he admitted to such a great failure.

"When Marie and I brought Tommy home from the hospital, I didn't have a clue about being a dad. He arrived on our first wedding anniversary and we were so young; I was still in seminary, trying to finish my degree so I could find a real job. Between work and university, I wasn't home much, and when I was, I let Marie handle everything baby-related – diapers, bottles, baths."

I felt an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach as I listened. "The worst was the mornings. Even once Tommy started sleeping through the night, he'd wake up screaming. He was probably just hungry," he said with a chuckle, and many people in the congregation joined in, knowing just how much pasta he would put away when we held spaghetti dinners. "But I thought it was the worst sound in the world. And I started leaving the house early, going to study in the library, and leaving Marie to deal with our child.

"But as time went on, I started noticing that he was growing up." He laughed. "It's hard to think of an 8 month old as grown up when he's 20 now. But compared to when we first brought him home, he cried less and smiled more. And one morning, Marie had to get to the church for an altar guild meeting, but Tommy hadn't awoken yet. I knew the meeting was important to her, so I told her to go ahead and I would take care of him that morning.

"I have to admit, I sat in my office, hands clenched, waiting for him to wake up any moment, screaming his head off. I was supposed to be working on a sample sermon for class, but instead I just sat in my chair, worried that something would go wrong. I almost tiptoed into the nursery to make sure he was still breathing, but I was so terrified of waking him that I sat glued to my chair. And a few minutes later, I heard something."

Pastor smiled, remembering fondly. "He was talking. Not really talking, of course; there was a while before that happened. But Tommy was lying in his crib, making quiet noises. And as I walked into his room and over to his crib he looked up at me and smiled."

I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief, glad the story had a happy ending. But Pastor's conclusion still managed to surprise me. "I'd been so busy being afraid that I would make a mistake as a parent, that I hadn't realized my son was growing up. And even though he was still a small child, he'd developed something I'd never expected him to have – faith.

"My son knew that he didn't have to wake up screaming every morning. Because he knew that his mother would be in soon, and that she would feed him and care for him and love him. He had faith in her, and somehow, he'd managed to develop that same faith in me. And when people ask me why we baptize infants, I don't just read them the scriptural passages; I tell them this story. Because we know that children have extraordinary ability to develop faith…"

Pastor continued, bringing his sermon back to the scripture, but my mind was stuck on his anecdote. For the first time, I felt like maybe I'd been thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe I would be able to be a good parent. I didn't know exactly how you went about feeding or changing or bathing babies, but I knew enough to find that out in the next few months. And I certainly wouldn't emulate Pastor Daniels and dump all the parenting on Eli; at the rate we were going, I might be doing all the parenting myself.

If a baby can have faith in his parents at such a young age, why didn't I have any faith in myself?

I slipped my hand into my jacket and rested my hand on my stomach. I hadn't felt any kicks yet; according the books, it was too early, especially since I was a full-time mom. I wondered if once that happened, if I would finally feel that connection with my baby that I hadn't quite reached yet. I wondered if that would make me feel less like a bloated pregnant coward, and more like a mother.

I wondered how my mother had felt when she was pregnant with Darcy. I knew that like Pastor Daniels and his wife, she and Dad had gotten pregnant not long after getting married, when Mom was merely 20 years old. I wasn't sure if that was planned or if they were so religious that they had been against birth control. She'd had a hysterectomy soon after having me so the issue hadn't been raised.

I guessed I could ask her once I told her the truth. I knew I should tell them today, but as I saw her eyes narrow during communion as I reached for one of the small cups of grape juice that were provided for alcoholics or others who shouldn't be drinking wine, I knew that her suspicions had already been raised. After the service, I snuck out quickly, claiming that I wanted to get over to help Meghan put out the food at Mom's house.

Throughout the party, I saw more than a few eyes dart down to my stomach as I couldn't keep up the charade with the heavy jacket inside the house but thankfully no one was tactless enough to bring it up. It definitely wasn't clear that I was pregnant – I could certainly have just gained a few pounds – so no one would dare make the suggestion in case they were wrong. I jumped between the living room and the kitchen, trying to keep my distance from my mother in order to avoid a very public scene.

But after a few hours, the luncheon was over and the cross shaped cake had been served and people started to head home. Soon it was Mom, Glen, Jake, Meghan – who had Devin balanced on one hip – and I standing in the kitchen.

I knew I couldn't put this off any longer.

"Soo, I have an announcement to make," I said awkwardly. I shifted my weight and wrung my hands as my family looked up at me.

Before I could continue, my mother broke in. "You're pregnant," she said, without a trace of doubt in her voice.

"I'm pregnant," I confirmed, with less strength in my voice.

Jake's jaw dropped but both Meghan and Glen looked impassive and I knew that they had both guessed the truth as well.

"And how exactly did this happen?" Mom asked, her mouth tight.

Jake snorted, "Well Helen, when a man and woman…"

"Shut up, Jake," Mom snapped before Glen could punch Jake in the arm.

I looked down. "It wasn't exactly planned. I…um…" I wasn't sure where exactly to start with this and how much I wanted them to know. So I just decided to tell them where I was right now. "I wasn't sure in the beginning…what I wanted to do. But I've decided that I'm going to raise this baby and I'm just hoping that you will support me."

"Of course we will," Glen said gently. I shot him a grateful smile but my mother's expression wasn't nearly as kind.

"Why isn't the father supporting you?" she demanded. "Why isn't he here? What kind of man gets a girl pregnant and doesn't come with her to tell her family?"

I took a deep breath. "He isn't here because I didn't invite him. We're still…" I paused, searching for words that could adequately explain our complicated situation. "Figuring things out."

"Exactly how long do you have to figure things out?" Mom asked dryly.

"I'm due in May. May 24." It was awkward to tell people that information because you could almost see them calculating in their minds when the baby would have been conceived. "I'm 15 weeks right now."

"The father isn't that Michael guy, right?" Jake interrupted. "Because that guy is such a douchebag…" It was Meghan this time who socked Jake in the arm, and Devin let out a giggle.

"Um…no," I said, breathing a sigh of relief. I couldn't think of anyone worse in the world to have a child with, and I was certain that if this was Michael's baby, he would have driven me to a clinic and refused to take me home until I had terminated the pregnancy. I wasn't sure exactly how things would work out with Eli, but at least I knew he was supportive in that sense. "It is someone you know, though…at least, most of you." I glanced at Meghan who I had met nearly two years after Eli had left my life but who had probably heard more stories about him than all of the others combined.

"It's Eli," I said finally, trying to keep all trace of emotion out of my voice.

Everyone was silent – even Devin, who must have sensed that this was quite an important moment – but their faces told me exactly what they were feeling. Jake was shocked. Glen was surprised but possibly somewhat amused. Meghan's face softened as if she immediately understood all of the intense feelings that Eli's presence in my life would cause me.

My mother was livid.

Before she could begin her tirade, Meghan said, "You know, Devvy is a bit overwhelmed after all this partying. I think I'm going to put him down for a nap upstairs." She gave Jake a pointed look.

It took him a few seconds to catch on and he was leaning forward, eagerly awaiting the blowout that was about to transpire between Mom and me. "Right…I should go help Meghan."

Glen didn't need the hint. "As will I."

The three of them hurried up the stairs, but the pause gave Mom just enough time to cool off and her next statement was more sad than angry. "I didn't know you were dating Eli again."

As much as I was grateful that she wasn't looking at me with all of the hatred I was expecting, I knew she wasn't going to be thrilled with my response. "I'm not…exactly. It was just supposed to be a one time thing."

She pursed her lips and placed her hands on the table to steady herself. "Clare Diana Edwards!" she shrieked. It had been more than a few years since I had been on the receiving end of a Helen Martin lecture and I braced myself for the impact. "I cannot believe you."

"I'm sorry…" I began but she cut me off, wagging a finger at me.

"I knew when you dated Jonathan for all those years that the chances of you maintaining your abstinence pledge were slim, but I never thought that you'd be the kind of person who goes around having one night stands."

As much as I hadn't agreed with Mom's strict views on sex in many years, the criticism stung. I knew I wasn't that kind of girl and I knew that what had happened with Eli had been more than that, even if I didn't want to admit it. "It wasn't like that," I tried to explain.

"You had sex with a guy you weren't even dating. That's exactly what it sounds like with me."

I looked down. "But it's Eli. We're not currently dating but there's so much history between us." I laughed grimly. "It wasn't even the first time we had slept together," I said, before realizing that for Helen Edwards, that admission was not likely to go over well.

She grimaced. "Ugh, Clare. In high school?" I nodded. "In this house?" I flinched but nodded again. "I can't even look at you," she said, taking a seat at the table and holding her head up with her hands.

She was silent and I wasn't sure what to say. But after a minute, the tension was too strong and I lowered my voice, trying to appeal to her. "Mom, I know you're angry at me and I don't blame you. But can we focus on what's important here? I'm having a baby."

She met my eyes and her bottom lip quivered. "My baby is having a baby."

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. "And I am really going to need you. I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

An emotion I couldn't quite place flickered across her face and she reached for my hand. "I'm really unhappy about how this happened," she said softly. "But I'll help you in any way I can."

"Thank you," I sobbed through uncontrollable tears.

"Are you going to marry him?" she asked.

I knew this question was coming but I didn't expect the involuntary pang in my heart as I shook my head. "I _can't_."

She brushed my hair back from my face in the most maternal gesture I could ever recall her doing. "That's okay," she said. "It's okay."

"I know you're disappointed..."

She shook her head. "I remember how much Eli hurt you. I don't want you to have to spend a lifetime with him over one mistake."

For the first time in ages, I felt like my mother was finally on my side. "You're taking this better than I expected."

Mom gave me a wry smile that I couldn't decipher and looked me straight in the eye. "I was pregnant with Darcy when your father and I got married."

"What?!" I tried to think back to the wedding album that I had loved to look at when I was a kid and I knew even back then that even with my limited knowledge of sex, I would have noticed if there was a discrepancy between their anniversary date and Darcy's birthday. "How is that even possible?"

"We were married in July…but your grandmother ordered programs with January printed on them, and claimed it was a typo, but it was intentional." She laughed. "All the pictures in the album are of me and Randall because most of the women that attended were in sundresses."

I tried to wrap my head around this. "So you and Dad wouldn't have gotten married if you hadn't been pregnant?"

"Oh no, Clare, we would have. We were already engaged at the time." She pursed her lips. "It certainly wasn't a one night stand," she said pointedly. "But we were young and in love and foolish, and your grandmother insisted that we get married at once." Mom lowered her voice. "She was very concerned about what the women at church would say."

I rolled my eyes. My mother was every bit as concerned about church gossip at my grandmother. And frankly, considering until today, I hadn't told anyone but Eli that I was pregnant – it clearly ran in the family.

"I'm really scared," I admitted. "I don't know how to be a mother. I always thought I'd have kids but that always seemed so far in the future."

She smiled. "You're six years older than I was. But I know things are different now."

"How did you do it?"

Mom shrugged. "You just figure it out as you go along." Her eyes glanced to the stairs, but I didn't see anyone coming down. "I should probably ask Glen before offering this, but if you want to come home, you can. You can have your old room back and we can turn Jake's into a nursery. You won't have to go through this alone."

I had to admit, I was touched that she would consider helping me to that extent. But I remembered what it was like to grow up under Mom's strict rules and I knew that being an adult didn't exempt you from them. "That's a really generous offer, but I couldn't impose."

"You wouldn't be," she said. "I miss having babies in the house."

"Well I'll be sure to bring it over all the time."

"It?" she laughed.

"It's too soon to know," I explained.

"I think you're supposed to call 'it' the baby until you find out."

"Awww," Jake called from the stairs, as he and Glen joined us in the kitchen. "I was suspecting a little more bloodshed. You've disappointed me, Helen."

"Well you know me," she said, standing and putting her arm around Glen's waist. "I've become a softy in my old age." Jake and I exchanged looks. That wasn't the word I'd use to describe her even after her uncharacteristic show of support.

"Everything okay, Clare?' Glen asked.

I nodded gratefully. "I'm okay…thank you." I was feeling exhausted after such a long, draining day and I knew I'd need to take a nap before I could accomplish anything productive. "I should probably get going though. I've got some work to do."

Mom hugged me and I held on for longer than usual, so happy that she hadn't disowned me. And even Glen – who wasn't the most demonstrative guy on Earth – gave me a hug and kissed my cheek, offering his congratulations.

"I'll walk you out," Jake said. I sighed, knowing I was in for yet another grilling. When he followed me into my car, I knew he meant business.

"Eli, Clare? How did this even happen?" he asked, incredulously.

I turned the ignition, and fussed with the radio, not really wanting to get into this with him. "I'm fairly certain you've gotten the whole 'birds and the bees' speech before – especially considering you managed to have a kid of your own."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure this story doesn't begin with 'when a man and woman love each other very much and want to make a baby.' Unless you've been hiding something."

I shook my head. "I really didn't mean for it to happen. I was messed up after Darcy, and I ran into him and…now I'm pregnant."

Jake stared at me as if that answer wasn't acceptable to him. And for some reason, even though I hadn't wanted to do this, the whole story slipped out – how he had shown up at the funeral, and I'd had too much to drink, and I'd seduced him. How he'd had a girlfriend and broken up with her. How it seemed like he wanted to be a father but how scared I was to let him back into my life.

I hadn't planned to tell Jake all of this; if anyone in the family was going to hear all the details, it would have been Meghan. But the whole time I'd known him Jake had always been easy going and non-judgmental, and it felt good to get this off my chest. I needed to know that I wasn't crazy and that I wasn't letting my hormones cloud my judgment.

After I finished talking, he shook his head. "After the funeral, when we were in the limo ready to leave for the cemetery and we realized you weren't there, Helen got really upset, and she asked me to go look for you. And I told her you'd probably just decided to drive yourself and that we should get going and not hold everyone up." He laughed. "If I had listened to her, you wouldn't have been in this situation."

"I was probably already long gone," I said. As soon as I set my eyes on Eli, I needed something to happen – a conversation at the very least but that clearly hadn't been enough. Even if I hadn't left the funeral with him, I would have seen him again. And it wasn't just the alcohol that made me sleep with him. Perhaps I would have been smarter about protection but there was no way of knowing if a few days would have made a difference.

"What are you going to do?" Jake asked.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "I don't know…buy a crib? Check out strollers? I'm not really sure where to start."

"About Eli…" he clarified.

I looked down. "I don't know," I said, even less certain. "It seemed like things were getting better between us…" Jake's expression shifted, and I knew I needed to explain. "We weren't together…but we were friendly. Getting along." I closed my eyes as I thought about our last conversation. "The last time I saw him we got into a huge fight. It was really bad and I don't know how we're going to get past this. I'm not sure I can trust him with my baby."

"What happened?"

I was definitely not going to admit that I had attempted to seduce Eli a second time. "He told me that he didn't cheat on me…back when we broke up."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Jake asked.

I shrugged. "If he didn't cheat on me, it means he's a liar…and if he did, this just makes him more of an asshole."

"Do you think he's telling the truth now?"

"Why would he have lied back then? It doesn't make sense."

Jake stared at me as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle. "You said he broke up with his girlfriend. How do you know that?"

"He told me," I said, in confusion.

"So you clearly believe that the other things he says are true."

"Are you taking his side?" I asked.

"No," he said emphatically. "Trust me, if there's anyone who knows how much Eli screwed up when he was dating you, it's me. I've lost count of the times I had to listen to you cry over him and try to cheer you up."

I knew that was true. The first time Eli and I had broken up, Jake and I were dating, and it was almost pathetic how much time I spent talking to him about my ex. I felt a bit nauseous thinking about the way Jake would go about distracting me; remembering how you used to kiss your stepbrother was certainly not a fond memory.

And after Eli had dumped me for good, Jake was still home, attending community college, and he definitely took on the role of comforter, even though sometimes his methods were off. "Yeah, like the time you made me brownies and neglected to mention that you had put pot in them…"

Jake cracked up. "That was so funny."

"That was so awful," I corrected. "I ate two of them before you told me. I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital."

"You survived," he said, touching my arm. "I hate to say this, but I think you should give Eli another chance. I mean, don't get back together with him or anything. But you should let him be a father to the baby."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "I just know that the mistakes I made when I was 18 have no bearing on what kind of father I am. It sounds like he wants to be involved and I don't think you have any reason to doubt that."

"You did make a lot of mistakes," I confirmed.

"And I'm not like that anymore."

"Oh yeah?" I reached for his hand, still covered in a cast.

Jake smiled. "Not around Devin, at least." It was true that Jake was an excellent father. I hadn't spent much time with him, Meghan and Devin but the few times I had, Jake was constantly holding him and getting him to giggle and feeding him bottles and trying to teach him how to crawl even though he was still too young for it.

"You are great with Devvy," I teased.

"I hate that nickname," Jake said. He leaned in closer as if he was telling me a big secret. "If you want to know the truth, I've even given up weed."

"Really?" I asked skeptically.

"Really," he said. "I've only smoked once since he was born, and that was at the lakehouse with Dad when we were getting rid of the old couch. I won't do it if I'm home with Devin."

"Wait, Glen smokes pot too?" I asked in shock.

Jake's smirk widened. "Twenty-six years old, and you're still so naïve, Clare."

I was feeling completely out of my depth. I didn't know anything about parenting or relationships or trust, and apparently nothing about my stepfather's drug use. All I knew was that I was at the start of a journey that wouldn't ever end and that I didn't know if I was willing to let Eli join me on it. "What if Eli does drugs? Or he's stopped taking his bipolar meds? Or he's a secret serial killer and he used to hide the bodies of children underneath the piles of stuff in his old room? I haven't known him in seven years and now I'm just supposed to trust him completely? With a baby? How can I do that?"

Jake shook his head at me. "You could get to know him again. Spend time together. Come up with a plan. Because I'm fairly certain you can rule out serial killer, but I don't know enough about Eli to tell you anything else about him."

I knew in my heart that was what I needed to do. And I knew exactly what it was that was holding me back. I was afraid if I got to know him again, I'd end up falling back in love with him.

And this time, if things didn't work out, there was a lot more than my heart at stake.


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else. If I did, Eli would only have exposed his genitals in private to a very happy and eager Clare.**

**Probably not the best chapter to post thematically after a tough episode on Friday. I can assure you that while there may be another bad moment or two, this is the worst things get between Eli and Clare in this fic.**

Chapter 14

"**You ask me for an answer, and I'm so tired and I'm up in the air." – I Do by Lisa Loeb**

"Hop up on the table," the ultrasound technician instructed. "You don't need to undress; just fold down your pants and pull up your blouse.

"Hop up?" I grumbled. At my last check up with my ob/gyn, I learned I had gained 15 pounds from my start weight, and considering I had lost a few during the early morning sickness phase that meant I was really packing them on. I hadn't felt like "hopping up" anywhere lately. The doctor told me I really had to pay attention to what I was eating since most of the weight gain was supposed to come at the end of the pregnancy and I was only halfway through.

I took my place on the cot and rearranged my clothes and the technician moved the equipment closer. "I turned the warmer on for you, so this shouldn't be too bad," she said as she squirted a glob of gel onto my stomach and moved the ultrasound wand around to spread it out. The gel was almost a little too warm but it was a pleasant change from my first ultrasound where it was icy cold. The last time was about a month ago when they sent me to a lab to do my alpha fetoprotein/nuchal screenings which involved both a blood test and an ultrasound to check for any abnormalities in the baby's development that might suggest an increased risk of down syndrome or another genetic abnormality.

The tests had come back indicating there was no increased risk of any issues, but my doctor wasn't pleased with the quality of the ultrasound images so she had sent me to the hospital for my 20 week anatomy scan.

"I have to take a lot of measurements," the technician explained. "So if I'm quiet for a minute or two, there doesn't mean there's a problem. Sometimes it's just a matter of getting the baby into the right place so I can get all of the shots I need." I nodded, looking at the screen. She had a pretty full view of the baby on the screen and I could see its heart beating rapidly. Its hand was in front of his face at the moment so it was hard to see what it might look like.

I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.

"Did you want to know the gender?" she asked.

"Sex," I corrected immediately. My long ago friendship with Adam Torres had told me everything I needed to know about how body parts didn't always line up with what the mind knew to be the truth.

"Right," she said. "Sometimes I forget. I've only been doing this for a few months," she confided.

That really didn't give me a lot of confidence in her skills but I was glad she hadn't argued the point. It had been a long time since I'd given someone a speech on this, and now that Adam was no longer part of my life it was tinged with sadness. I wondered what he was up to. He had deleted his Facerange a few years back – the last post I had seen was him arguing with Audra very publicly about whether he was doing too much drinking in university – and that had disconnected the one last means of contact I'd had with him, since phone calls were too awkward and emails weren't any better.

"So do you want to know?" she asked again.

"Sure," I said. I was definitely too neurotic to let something this big be a surprise.

She kept moving the wand and snapping pictures, pausing to type in what she was looking at and clicking the mouse to calculate measurements. "So where's Daddy today? He couldn't make it?"

Part of me wanted to respond indignantly that I was a single mother and it was awfully presumptuous of her to ask that. But her words brought me a pang of sadness and I couldn't muster the strength to argue. "He's at work," I said.

In truth, I had no idea where Eli was, though considering it was a Wednesday at 10 in the morning that was almost definitely an accurate answer. But we hadn't spoken since our blowout fight more than a month ago, and I hadn't had the opportunity to tell him about this ultrasound or the previous one.

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, her eyes still trained on the screen. "He's a teacher," I clarified. "And saving up his personal days for the baby's arrival."

"We have appointments until five or six every day. I'm sure we could have gotten you in some afternoon," she chirped.

I wanted this line of questioning to end. "Well, I have meetings I'm unable to get out of in the afternoon and unfortunately, he can't do this without me, so that's why I'm here now." I let out an exasperated sigh. "And I have meetings to get back to so if we could keep this moving."

She must have noticed the tartness in my response, but didn't comment. "Sure thing, honey." She poked at my stomach with the wand, trying to get the baby to move so she could measure another part she wasn't able to reach with a different angle.

I kept hoping we'd get to the quiet part of the test where she really focused on getting her measurements done, but she chattered away, peppering me with questions about what I was going to do about work after having the baby and whether I'd started registering for baby shower gifts. Neither of these were things I had actually made any decisions on – or really, given much thought to – but I gave her short, decisive answers just to get her to move on.

Realizing that I wasn't in much of a mood to respond to her persistent questioning, she started telling me stories about _her_ pregnancies, and _her _kids, and _her_ lousy ex-husband. It was irritating, but at least a quick, "Oh no," or a nod was enough to keep her attention off me.

"And I was supposed to go down to Niagara Falls casino with my girlfriends for the weekend, but the scumbag called and said he had to work. The night before. And my mother can't handle all three kids anymore even though Jaycee is on the ADD medication now, so I had to cancel my trip. He picks up all these extra hours but I don't see my child support check going up." She moved the wand and without pause or affect, said, "It's a girl."

After zoning mostly out of her story, I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. "Wait, what?"

"It's a girl," she said, a little more pleasantly. She pointed at the screen. "See those three lines there. That's the labia. The doctor will confirm but I don't even think there's a doubt – it's so clear."

I looked at her. "A girl?...I'm having a girl?"

She made a pouty face at me and turned back to the screen, typing the word girl between the baby's legs and hitting print. "You wanted a boy?"

"No…I…" I let out a deep breath. "I didn't know what I want."

"Girls are better," she said. "My Jaycee is a little demon and so's Tyler, but Madison is a doll. And she's so much fun to shop for."

"I'm having a girl," I said one more time, completely for my own benefit.

And then I smiled.

Fortunately the technician was almost finished at that point, and the Doctor quickly confirmed that everything looked great with the baby, because I had completely checked out. I was envisioning Easter dresses with a little cross necklace, and pictures with Santa, and eating ice cream cones on the dock by the lakehouse with a little six year old with curly hair and blue eyes. I stepped outside of the hospital door, taking a minute to breathe since the fetal medicine center had been surprisingly far from the entrance. I noticed a wrought iron bench and sat down, needing a break before the long trek to my car. I put my hand on my stomach as I thought I might have felt a little kick but I couldn't be sure. But whether I could feel the baby kick wasn't the only uncertainty in my life.

That, of course, would be Eli.

After I had told my mother the truth about my pregnancy and had talked things over with Jake, I really intended to make amends with Eli. But I let my fears get the better of me and decided to give him a little bit of time to cool off. But after another week had passed and then another, I started to wonder why exactly I was the one who needed to reach out. He was the one who had screwed up – who had cheated or lied – and I was the one who had a right to be angry. And when we reached a month with no contact, I realized that I might have pushed him away.

If he really wanted to be a father to this baby, why wasn't he making any effort?

I needed to open up the line of communication so I pulled out my phone to send him a text. _Went for an ultrasound. Everything looks good. Do you want to know the sex?_

I was just about to get up and start the walk back to my car when the phone rang. It was Eli. I didn't know whether to be happy that he had finally decided to contact me or dread the fact that a response that came that quickly couldn't be good.

"Hello?" I said, as if I didn't know who was on the line.

Eli dispensed with any pleasantries. "Are you fucking kidding me, Clare?"

"Excuse me?" I squeaked. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that.

"You have the nerve to go for an ultrasound without letting me know and then you want to tell me the sex of our baby by text message? That's fucked up."

I cringed at his words. Even though I wasn't as prudish about cursing as I had been in high school and I'd been known to use them myself, I wasn't used to Eli hurling expletives at me as weapons. If he hadn't started out so aggressively, I probably would have apologized, but to be honest, his words just reminded me why I'd been so pissed off at him in the first place.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want an invitation?" I asked feigning sweetness. "Because I thought if you gave a shit about your unborn child, perhaps you wouldn't have gone over a month without contacting me."

"I was waiting for you to cool off," he said, his tone still angry. "But that doesn't give you the right to leave me out. It's my baby too, Clare."

"Yeah well, you're doing a great job with that. Did you really think that nothing happened between weeks 15 and 20 of pregnancy? Oh right, nothing did happen to you. But I don't have the luxury of walking away for five weeks because I'm the one who's pregnant."

Eli let out an audible groan of frustration and he seemed like he was about to lay into me again, but I heard the sound of a bell ringing in the background, signaling either the end of class or the beginning of the next. "Fuck," he said. "This isn't over."

"The baby's doing great, by the way," I said, but he'd already hung up.

After that conversation, I wasn't so sure I was doing great anymore.

Back at work, I kept looking at the clock, expecting Eli to call me the moment that school let out. But to my surprise when I finished editing an article that had a lot of structural problems the writer would need to fix, it was already five o'clock. I figured that maybe Eli had play practice that day, but while I kept my phone with me until I went to bed that night, it never rang again.

I was even more surprised as the next few days had passed without any contact. On Tuesday morning, I was sitting at my desk, ostensibly trying to work on an editorial on the state of picture books in the ebook era, but I couldn't help but think about what had gone wrong with Eli. In my procrastination I had checked out the online website with the baby calendar customized to my due date and in today's entry it had said, "Dad may become more involved in the pregnancy."

That couldn't be farther from the truth.

Maybe this was it. Maybe I had finally pushed him too far. He'd said he wanted to be there for his child, but maybe that was something he was willing to give up if it meant that he'd have to deal with me.

In some way, this had been what I'd been hoping for. That I'd finally have Eli out of my life forever. But the prospect of raising this baby on my own terrified me. I thought of Meghan and how she spent her days at home with Devin – and how both of them lit up when the front door opened and Jake arrived home from work. I even thought of my own parents, and how we'd all gone to New York City when I was maybe 10 years old. Each of them held onto one of my mittened hands as Darcy tromped ahead, pretending she wasn't enjoying herself since the vacation had forced her to miss a Valentine's Day dance at school.

As much as my parents' marriage hadn't ended happily, I wouldn't trade those memories for the world.

I hated that my baby would never have memories of a happy, whole family.

My desk phone buzzed and I picked up the receiver. "Hello."

It was the front desk receptionist. "Clare, there's a man with a package for you and he won't let me sign for it."

I sighed. They had recently hired a new girl and she was too timid to take care of things on her own. "Can you tell him I'm busy?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "But he said you have to be the one to sign for it."

"Fine," I said sharply, setting the phone down a little harder than necessary. It wasn't like I was accomplishing a lot anyway.

I headed to the reception area through the newsroom. A few people lifted their heads and nodded as I walked by. I had announced my pregnancy to my boss and coworkers the day after I had told my mother, and people at work had been very supportive. My assistant Angela had been talking my ear off about baby gear, and to get her to stop talking, I had agreed to allow her to help me register for the best car seat and high chair and crib. Christine had hugged me and asked if that's why she got the Judy Blume piece, then proclaimed it "the best baby ever."

Nicole had left a teddy bear on my desk with a note that she was happy for me, and as soon as I saw it, I had promptly burst into tears. We hadn't entirely rekindled our friendship, but we had started eating lunch together again, and I'd really missed having her in my life. She had been tactful enough not to inquire into my relationship with the father but I knew that it was only a matter of time before I spilled my guts to her.

The only person who hadn't responded with complete positivity was my boss, Jared. He had said all of the polite things and kept reiterating how happy he was for me, but I knew he was nervous. I had told him that I would return to full-time work after having the baby but he seemed unconvinced. Christine had confided that in the 15 years she'd been here, two female editors who'd held my position had gotten pregnant and left their jobs, and one of them had sworn she would never leave. I couldn't even imagine feeling like I wanted to be a stay at home mom, but I knew my reluctance to give an approximate date of return worried him. When I finally confronted him about it, he said that while he was worried about losing me, he was even more concerned about losing the position itself. The paper was always looking to make cuts through attrition, and he had no clue how they would get everything accomplished without me.

I'd told him I'd give him an answer soon. I knew I was entitled to pregnancy leave and parental leave, but it was hard to figure out how much time I needed when I had no idea what life would be like.

At the reception area, the messenger held out a sheet of paper for me to sign then handed me a large envelope. "I'm not being served, am I?" I joked, still not sure why I had to be the one to sign for this when the receptionist had always received all of my packages.

The messenger didn't meet my eyes. "It's not a subpoena, ma'am."

"Who is this from?"

"Bradford, Dustin, and Klein," he said as he headed back toward the elevators.

Why was a law firm sending me a messengered letter? I tore it open right there in the lobby.

_Dear Ms. Edwards,_

_I am writing on behalf of Mr. Elijah Goldsworthy to request your presence at a custody mediation on Wednesday, January 18 at 3:30 p.m. at the Toronto Superior Court House. _

_If this date and time is not amenable, please contact Sheila Cuthbert at my firm in order to schedule an alternate appointment._

_Participation in the mediation process is strictly voluntary; however, Mr. Goldsworthy has asked me to inform you that should you be unwilling to participate, he will be initiating court proceedings to sue for formal legal custody._

_You may wish to retain legal counsel to represent your interests in this mediation._

_Sincerely,_

_William S. Bradford, Esq._

_Bradford, Dustin and Klein_

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I mumbled, repeating Eli's words.

"Excuse me?" the receptionist chirped.

There was no way I was explaining this. "Could you call Jared and let him know I've stepped out for a few minutes?" I headed for the elevator before she could respond.

I went to the side of the building to try to get a little bit of privacy and called Eli. The second I heard him pick up the call, I started yelling. "You got a _lawyer_?!"

"Clare," he said, his voice much gentler than it was last time.

"You got a _lawyer_?!" I repeated.

"I had too," he insisted. "You wouldn't talk to me."

"That's such bullshit, Eli."

"You were the one who didn't even tell me you were having an ultrasound. I'm just trying to make sure that I'm going to have a place in this baby's life."

"You mean, have a place when it's convenient for you. Which it clearly wasn't the last five weeks."

"No, Clare." He sighed. "I just want to come up with a plan – that's fair for both of us."

The anger fizzled out of my voice. "And you think we need a mediator to do that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It just seemed like the only way to get anything done."

I couldn't imagine going to a courthouse and bringing a lawyer to talk to Eli about things like diapers and summer vacations. It didn't feel like the right way to go about things. And if it didn't work out, we'd be in court for real. As much as my parents' divorce plans didn't work as well as we'd planned, I was grateful that they hadn't used me as a pawn in their court battles, and I knew that even if we worked something out before the baby arrived, if the agreement was made in acrimony we'd probably end up back there year after year, rehashing minor details.

"Do you think we could try to sit down…talk as adults? Come up with an agreement on our own? If it doesn't work, I'm willing to do the mediation, but I'd like it if we could leave that as a last resort," I suggested.

He took a few seconds before replying. "I guess I can agree to that."

"When?"

"Are you free tonight?" His voice was gravelly and I couldn't read the emotion in his voice.

"I can be. Do you want to meet at Giancarlo's?" I suggested, naming the restaurant where we'd eaten lunch, the day we reconnected.

He laughed. "Do you really want to do this in public? We aren't always the best at controlling our tempers."

I couldn't help but laugh as well. "Right."

"Why don't you come to my place?" he asked, and before I could decline, he offered, "I have a dining room table…and a couch. We wouldn't have to sit on your bed like we're high school students."

"Okay," I agreed slowly. I hated to admit it but I was curious to see where Eli lived, especially since he'd gotten such an intimate look at mine.

"I'll text you the address. Six thirty good?"

"I'll be there."

I took a deep breath as we hung up. I was definitely not ready for this.

Unfortunately, I couldn't put it off any longer.


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Well I suppose I should preface this chapter with the fact that I am not a lawyer and I'm also not Canadian (as I'm sure you can tell – though I have gotten better about certain words but I always find mistakes when I go back). I'm hoping this is fairly reasonable, but I cannot guarantee its legal veracity.**

**I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to review and let me know you're still out there. I've never written a fic this long and though I know I have a few enthusiastic Tumblr anons, I hope I still have the rest of you with me.**

* * *

Chapter 15

"**All I really want is some peace man, a place to find a common ground." All I Really Want by Alanis Morissette**

I spent the rest of the afternoon suffering from a complete lack of focus and at five, I realized I had an article I absolutely had to finish before I walked out the door that night. It was nearly six before I had emailed it off to Jared, and with no time to spare, I typed the address that Eli had texted to me into my phone to check the directions using GPS. I hadn't recognized the street name and I hoped it wasn't too far away otherwise I wouldn't have a prayer of making it there by six thirty and I didn't want to be late.

When it came up on the map, I couldn't help but laugh. He lived about six blocks away from Degrassi. As I started up my car, glad I had driven to work that day, I thought about the fact that if Eli continued to live at his condo, it was possible that our child could attend the same school we had. I thought of all the things that had happened while I was there, and while Darcy was there.

I vowed to move to a better school district within the next four years.

I managed to find a parking space just across from Eli's building. It was definitely an older building, though you could see that the condo owners put a lot of care into maintaining it, unlike my apartment's landlords. He buzzed me in and I took the elevator to the third floor, not wanting to arrive huffing and puffing.

I don't know if I was expecting Eli to be hostile but he opened the door and gave me a polite smile. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," I said, returning the gesture. He reached out to take my coat and disappeared into a room with it for a moment. The whole situation felt a lot more formal than the occasions in which Eli had come to my own apartment. I wasn't sure if that meant I was a terrible host or if our relationship had turned businesslike out of necessity.

"Did you want to sit?" he asked when he returned, gesturing to the couch. He hadn't been lying about his place; the room was spotless upon a first glance – though upon closer inspection I could see a line of dust in front of the books lined up on gorgeous built-in bookshelves, and a pile of magazines on the floor. A few game controllers tumbled out of the TV stand. The couches themselves looked warm and comfortable – probably not high end, but certainly a few steps above Ikea. The room was decorated much better than any bachelor pad I had ever seen, and I wondered if Lauren had helped Eli turn this place into a home.

Eli's condo had an open floorplan so there was no wall between the kitchen and living room though his dining room table created a divider of sorts. I noticed that Eli had his laptop set out and I gestured to the table, not wanting to do an awkward "where should we sit?" dance between living room couches. "How about there? Then you can type up notes or whatever."

He smirked. "Take the minutes?"

"You're the one who wanted a formal negotiation," I reminded him.

He shrugged. "We had to do this at some point."

Eli poured us each a glass of water and then sat down at his computer. I took a seat across the table from him and pulled out a steno pad and a pen. "Low tech," he commented.

"I prefer to take notes by hand." I usually pulled out my tape recorder to make sure I didn't misquote or misremember a conversation when I did interviews, but I had a feeling that would not go over well here. I didn't want Eli to think I didn't trust him and that I was trying to get evidence against him. He seemed to be taking this seriously without being aggressive and I didn't want to change the tenor of this conversation.

Eli nodded and got right down to business. "The lawyer gave me a list of topics we should probably cover…and the first is obviously custody."

"Okay well…" I took a deep breath. "I was thinking that the baby would live with me." Eli's face immediately fell and I clarified, "But I obviously want some sort of shared custody arrangement."

"Actually, custody has more to do with the major decision-making than who the child lives with," Eli said, sounding a bit patronizing.

"Well I'm sorry I haven't had an opportunity to study up on the legal terms regarding custody arrangements considering you sprung this on me earlier this afternoon," I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I took one look at his face and immediately regretted what I had said. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "We do need to figure this out and I'm glad we're talking about it…I just don't even know where to begin."

"Me either," he said honestly.

"Well, I think decision making should be done jointly. As for living arrangements, what's the standard? Every other weekend and one night a week?"

Eli shook his head. "That's not enough, Clare. With shared custody, each parent is supposed to spend at least 40 percent of their time with the child, and I'd really like to get as close to 50/50 as possible."

I was a little surprised at how certain Eli was that he wanted to spend time with this baby. Everything he had told me prior to this had consistently told me he was going to do whatever was necessary to be a parent to his child, but I had managed to convince myself he wasn't interested during our long period of silence. "How do you suggest we do that?"

"I've had some ideas, but everything I come up with usually has a problem with it," Eli said.

"Like what?"

"Well at first I thought maybe you could move in here." My eyebrows shot up and I was about to protest when he put up his hands in surrender and clarified, "Not like that. But I figured I could clear out my extra room and move my desk out of the office and into my bedroom. The baby needs a nursery regardless and I thought you could live in the spare room."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said and he nodded.

"Yeah if we can't even manage to have a good relationship over the phone I don't think living together is an option."

"Well we should work on that, but I agree...living together won't work."

He hesitated as if he didn't want to bring up his next idea. "I was also thinking…maybe we could do something along the lines of what your parents did."

I felt my heart thudding as I remembered how devastating my parents' divorce was to me and just how much that arrangement hadn't worked out. "What do you mean?"

"We could trade off weeks," he clarified. "One week you could stay with her here, and I'll crash at your apartment. And then we'll switch."

I shook my head, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "No, we can't…"

"Why not?" Eli looked really concerned. "The reason it didn't work for your parents is that your dad stopped showing up. I'm not going to do that."

"And my mother got remarried," I reminded him. "What happens then? When you meet someone new and have to bring her to my shitty apartment every other week?" I shook my head. "We can alternate weeks if you want, but I can't live here, with or without you."

"That's something else we should talk about…dating. It's not good for the baby to be around a bunch of people who aren't actually going to stick around," Eli said.

I snorted. "Well, I doubt that's going to be much of a problem on my end." Eli raised an eyebrow. "Two years of celibacy, remember? I'm sure being a single mother isn't exactly going to lead to a revolving door of men."

"We should put something in the agreement. If you're dating someone and you want to introduce him or her to the kid, you have to let the other person know in advance."

"Fine," I said. "And there should be a minimum amount of time before that can happen…six months?" I suggested. I didn't want to hear about every new woman that Eli met if I could help it.

"Works for me," he said, typing notes into his laptop. "But we should get back to the living situation issue."

"Every other week is fine for me," I said.

"When is your lease up?" he asked.

"July 30th," I said.

"You realize you can't raise a child in that apartment," he said and I couldn't help but feel a little defensive.

"Yes, I realize that. But the first two months you usually have the baby in your room anyway. I'll move to a new apartment before the lease is up, but I'll be fine until that happens. What else do we need to figure out?"

Fortunately, Eli let the living situation go. "Well there are some complicating factors. For instance, are you planning on breastfeeding?"

I had read so many baby books and websites that talked about breastfeeding as if it was the single most important thing a mother could do for her child, but I had to admit, it wasn't the most appealing thing to me. I had signed up for a class at the hospital, hoping that an enthusiastic instructor could give me the motivation because reading about cracked nipples, mastitis, and latching problems hadn't exactly given me much confidence. "I'm going to try," I said.

"For how long?"

I shrugged. "However long I can do it for I guess. They recommend six months minimum, though a year is ideal."

"It's going to be kind of hard to breastfeed if the baby is at my place," he said. "I'm not really equipped for that."

I felt kind of dumb for not considering that. "They have pumps," I said. "I may just have to drop some off for you." I thought about Devin and having to thaw the milk in the cup and laughed at the thought of putting Eli in that situation. "Unless it's going really well, I might stop when I go back to work. Between sharing custody and being away from the baby for the morning and afternoon, it'll probably be hard to keep it up."

"When do you think you're going back?"

I looked down. "I haven't figured that out yet."

"Well, what are you leaning toward?"

I sighed. "Honestly…I'd like to go back as soon as possible." I knew that I had access to some of the most generous family leave benefits in the world as a Canadian citizen but I loved my job too much to stay away from it for long.

I expected Eli to give me a hard time but he just nodded. "So you're thinking what? Six weeks? Two months?"

I thought about the stories that Angela had told me about her babies and how they never slept. Sleeping wasn't something I was good at to begin with and I didn't have a screaming baby to take care of yet. "Maybe three months," I said, hoping that gave me enough time to get the baby on a good sleep schedule.

"So, the end of August most likely?"

"I guess so." Eli looked a little disappointed. "Is that a problem?"

"I was thinking of taking paternity leave the last month of school since the baby is due at the end of May. And then over the summer I could watch the baby during the day. I decided I'm not going to do a play this summer so I'll have a lot of time on my hands to spend time with it."

For some reason, the thought of Eli giving up his beloved plays when I was barely willing to take a few months off from work made me sad. "You could still do a play," I said softly. "You could watch her during the day, and I'll take her at night for your practices. Maybe I could get some work done – part-time or work from home. The paper doesn't want to lose me so they'll be flexible."

Eli stared at me, and then a slow smile spread across his face. "Her?"

I nodded, smiling back at him. "It's a girl." I realized I had a print out of the ultrasound that the obnoxious tech had printed out so I could give an extra copy to Daddy and I pulled it out of my bag and passed it to him across the table.

"Wow." His face screwed up into an expression that looked like he was holding back tears. "I think she looks like you," he said although I didn't think it was possible to tell that from the picture at all.

Watching him get so emotional over a picture really made me feel awful that he hadn't been there to experience it in person. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the ultrasounds. That was wrong of me," I said as sincerely as possible.

"I'm sorry I went so long without calling you," Eli said, glancing up from the photo just long enough that I could see he meant it. "I was afraid you were still mad at me, and I thought if I gave you space, you'd contact me when you were ready."

"I thought you had given up," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His was stronger. "Never," he vowed.

The tension was too thick for me to handle. I decided to change the subject. "What are we going to do about day care?"

"I haven't looked into it," he said. "I know Cece said she wouldn't mind taking care of the baby. She's been looking for an excuse to retire."

"She would do a great job," I said, trying to be tactful. "But it might be nice for the baby to be in more of a social situation." As much as I loved Cece, some of her and Bullfrog's parenting decisions were quite baffling and I wasn't sure I wanted my child to grow up with as much freedom as Eli had.

"So we'll find a center to be determined later," he typed, and I was glad he hadn't argued the point.

"Those places aren't open on weekends though… I usually go in for a few hours on Saturday afternoons because Sunday is the big Book Review edition."

"So I'll take her on Saturdays," Eli said.

"_Every_ Saturday?" I asked skeptically.

"The only Saturdays I can't do it are the weekends of the plays. Cece could take her then, or maybe Helen? We rehearse in the morning sometimes, but you said you only need the afternoon."

"So if it's your week, you drop her off with me in the morning, go to play practice, and then pick her up so that I can go to work?" I asked doubtfully.

Eli's expression mirrored mine. "That is awfully complicated."

"And Tuesday nights I usually end up working really late," I said. "So that's another complication. Day cares usually close at 6 or 6:30."

"I usually have rehearsals Tuesday nights…but I can switch them to Mondays," Eli said. "Monday, Wednesday, Thursday works."

"So who is watching the baby when you have rehearsals?"

"You are?" he said, though it sounded more like a question.

I tried to piece this together. "Monday after work, I pick her up from day care. Drop her off Tuesday before work…"

"And then I pick her up. Drop her at daycare Wednesday morning," Eli finished.

"I have her Wednesday and Thursday," I said.

"And I'll have her Friday and Saturday," he said. "I only have to have Saturday rehearsals about two weeks before each play. I'm sure I can work something out for that."

"So you have her three nights and I have her three nights. Who gets her on Sundays? That's the only day I won't have work."

"We alternate weeks?" Eli suggested.

The whole arrangement was making my head spin but I was pretty sure there wasn't going to be another way. "Fine. We'll try this and if it doesn't work, we'll figure something else out. What else are we supposed to put in this agreement?"

"Child support," Eli said, scrolling through the document.

I shook my head. "I don't think that'll be an issue. We'll each have equal time with her. If there's a major expense we can split it, and if that's a problem, I can handle it."

"Clare, did you win the lottery and neglect to mention it to me?" Eli joked.

I rolled my eyes. "No. I make a good salary and I keep my expenses low. Why do you think I've kept that shitty apartment for so long?"

"Note to self: Make Clare pay _me _child support," Eli said as he feigned typing.

"Next topic," I said trying to move things along.

"Holidays," Eli said.

"Well I get Christmas."

"Every year?" Eli whined.

"You're a Jewish atheist!"

"And shouldn't this baby be introduced to our important cultural tradition of going to the movies and eating Chinese food?"

"No!" I said and Eli cracked up.

"I'm kidding, Clare. You can have Christmas and Easter and whatever other holidays involve bunnies or Jesus."

"We can alternate Thanksgivings," I suggested. "Do you want odd years or evens?"

"I've always been rather odd," Eli said, eliciting another eyeroll.

"What about her birthdays?" I said, my voice wobbling a little bit. This was the first time I had really considered how much I'd be losing out on because Eli and I weren't together.

Eli noticed the change in tone. "Why don't we do them together?" he suggested. "I'm sure we can spend one night a year together without causing irreparable damage to our daughter."

I smiled. "I know you and I can, but it's hard enough to get Helen and Randall to be civil to one another without throwing Cece and Bullfrog into the mix."

He laughed. "I think they can all manage for one night. Just don't be surprised if Helen and Cece gang up on us and try to convince us to have another."

I refused to dignify that with a response. "Okay. Is there anything else we need to cover?"

He skimmed the document on his computer. "Communication. Can we agree to weekly emails letting each other know about problems or developments? We can call if it's urgent but the emails should be the minimum." I nodded and he looked back at the screen. "There's a lot of stuff about clothing and activities. Some of it isn't going to apply for a couple of years until she starts getting involved in things. A lot of this is supposed to be really detailed since most divorces are so acrimonious."

"I think we should be okay then. Maybe we'll have to add in a few things as she gets older, but at least we don't hate each other." I paused for a second before realizing that may not be as much of a fact as I thought. "Right?"

He laughed. "Right. Is there anything else you want to include?"

"I want to baptize her. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure. As long as if she asks me what I believe I don't have to lie to her."

"That's fair," I said. "As long as you tell her that's what you believe and not that it's the truth."

"Got it. Anything else?"

I tried to think about Jake and Meghan and the kinds of problems the two of them faced with baby Devin. "No drugs," I emphasized. "Not around the baby, ever."

Eli couldn't suppress his laugh. "Not a problem. The last time I got high I was with your stepbrother, so I don't think that's really an issue. Unless there's something you're not telling me…?"

"Please, Eli. And contrary to what you might think based on the day we went out to lunch, I don't really drink much either."

He smirked. "Those were extenuating circumstances. Much like the whiskey I drank the day I you told me."

I felt a rumbling in my stomach that I knew wasn't the baby and a moment later, it happened again, accompanied by an audible growl. "Is everything okay?" Eli asked.

"Yeah, I'm just getting hungry. I can grab something on the way home."

"Oh no," he said swiftly, jumping up. "I can make you something. I'm sorry; I should have realized that I asked you to meet me at dinnertime. I grabbed a cheeseburger on the way back here, but I'm sure I have something for you."

"That's okay," I protested, but he was already rifling through his kitchen cabinets.

"Is spaghetti okay?" he asked, pulling out the box of pasta and a jar of sauce before I could say no. "It's no trouble, really."

"Thanks," I said. I really was starving and spaghetti sounded pretty good.

This actually wouldn't be the first time Eli had cooked spaghetti for me. On our three month anniversary, the first time we had dated, Eli had been so proud to cook a candlelight dinner for me and even though the food had been plain and simple, it had been a special night.

It was the first time we'd ever said "I love you" to each other.

To my surprise, after he set a pot of water on the stove to boil, he pulled an onion and a handful of mushrooms out of the refrigerator and started to chop them. He glanced over and saw my confused look. "I was going to make myself an omelette tonight so I had these handy. I figure the veggies are good for the baby."

"When did you learn how to cook?" I asked.

He shrugged. "University mostly. And then years of practice helped. I'm not very good, but I can make myself dinner without burning the house down."

"NYU has cooking classes?" I asked skeptically.

"I took summer classes there, the summer before fourth year." He hesitated for a second. "My girlfriend at the time convinced me to save money on a meal plan and cook dinner with her."

His NYU girlfriend…the girl he may or may not have cheated on me with. "You lived with her?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

Eli shook his head. "Nah, some of the dorms had kitchens in the suites. It was a lifesaver really. My Grundy scholarship covered my tuition but room and board was insane there. I can't even imagine how high my student loan payment would be if I hadn't gotten it."

"Your _what_ scholarship?" This was news to me.

Eli stirred the veggies on the stove before pouring the sauce on top. "Grundy Scholarship," he said, as if that clarified things. "The Theatre Awards guy? He died the year I went to NYU, and his kids decided to found a scholarship in his honor. He must have been loaded because they ended up paying three years of NYU for me."

"You didn't come back for the Grundy Awards…and I don't recall them announcing it." That was something I would have remembered.

Eli turned away and I was glad he hadn't asked why I'd attended, though I would certainly lie and tell him I covered it for the Degrassi Daily. "He died a month after the ceremony. They sent me an application since Fantastic Journey did so well at the awards that year."

That I remembered. Dave and Tristan had alternated accepting the awards on Degrassi and Eli's behalf. "Well I guess that all worked out then."

"Yes it did," he said, sticking a spoon into the sauce and making a face. "It needs something…" He grabbed a spice jar from the rack in front of him and shook a generous helping over the pot before tasting again and eliciting an even more putrid expression. "Shit, I hope I can fix that."

"I guess your cooking lessons weren't very successful," I said.

Eli laughed. "Not really," he said, though he looked happier with the result after adding more sauce to the pot. "I can only do the basics. Kasey married a professional chef last year, so clearly my cooking skills weren't up to her standards."

"You keep in touch with your ex?" I knew Eli wanted to stay friends with Lauren and if he was friends with this Kasey girl too, that meant I was the only one with whom he had cut off all contact.

"Facerange in touch," he said, as the timer went off and he dumped the pot into a colander in the sink. "I didn't get an invite to the wedding or anything."

"That would've been awkward." Jonathan hadn't invited me to his wedding either, though I suspected he might have if his fiancée hadn't been a little too jealous of the fact that he and I had dated for such a long time. It had taken place in Vancouver where they both lived, but even if it had taken place in my own backyard I definitely would not have attended.

"Eh, not really…we only dated for like five or six months, and it wasn't really a big deal. That was years ago."

Five or six months? She clearly wasn't the girl from first year, but that didn't make sense. I couldn't imagine Eli dating a girl for that length of time and not sleeping with her. Unless Kasey had wanted to wait for some reason; Eli had always been respectful of that. Or maybe he hadn't actually slept with the girl he cheated on me with. Maybe he just kissed her or fooled around with her but it didn't get that far. I was still trying to process this information when Eli set a plate of food in front of me and took a seat across from me with his own plate.

"You know, I'm really sorry about the lawyer thing," he said sincerely. I paused the fork mid-air, gaping at him unintentionally as he continued, "I should have known that if we just sat down and talked things out we'd be able to work things out on our own."

"It's okay. We've never really been that good at the communication thing and at least it got us here."

He laughed. "That's pretty much the cause of every problem we've ever had, isn't it?"

I smiled wryly. "That and the whole unprotected sex thing."

Eli grinned. "Yeah, that too." He shifted in his seat. "It wasn't even my idea."

"What?" I wasn't really sure where he was going with this. I knew that sleeping together had completely been my idea.

"The lawyer thing…I only did it because we hadn't talked for so long and Cece convinced me that I had to protect my rights to the child."

I raised my eyebrows. Laidback Cece told Eli to get a lawyer? "I really can't picture that."

"She _really_ wants a grandchild," Eli said in a joking tone.

The thoughts running through my mind were decidedly less jovial. "Eli, I just…I want you to know that if anything happened…between us…or with you…if something went wrong…I wouldn't keep the baby from Cece and Bullfrog. I want them to be in her life." Eli's parents were unconventional to say this least, but they were wonderful to him and had done a great job of raising Eli. I had no doubt they would do the same for our child.

Eli looked confused. "What do you mean…? Do you think I'm going to get killed off or something?"

"No just…" I sighed. I knew we needed to talk about this, but I knew how much he hated to talk about this. "Sometimes with the bipolar…it puts you in a bad place. And I hope it doesn't happen, but what if things do get bad? You seem like you're doing amazingly well right now, but after seven years without seeing you, it's hard for me to trust that's not going away."

Eli put down his fork and looked at me. I was worried for a second that might have pushed the civil conversation over the line, but his response was very even tempered. "I've thought about that," he said. "And I've talked with my parents. If the baby is with me and I have even the slightest inkling that I'm not in a good place, I will call them and one of them will either stay with us or if it's really bad, take the baby home with them. If I can't get a hold of one of them, I'll call you. I swear I'd never do anything to hurt that baby, Clare…you have to believe me."

"I do believe you," I said softly. Eli's disorder had caused me pain, but it was never direct. He'd never become violent or abusive emotionally. And I had no doubt that he would work even harder to make sure the baby never saw that darker side of him.

"I'm in a good place right now," he said. "The meds are working. I'm still seeing my therapist."

"When was the last time you weren't in a good place?"

He considered my question for a few seconds before responding. "It's been a few years to be honest. When I first started teaching, it was really stressful. I was writing curriculum and trying to do my homework for my education masters and things got rough for a while. Once I got my feet under me, I did a lot better."

In some ways his words were reassuring, but I still had some concerns. "Having a baby can be stressful."

"So are directing plays and writing and dealing with 150 precocious high school brats every day. I'll get through it."

I nodded, hoping that he was right.

We went back to eating and the silence was making me uncomfortable. "I thought you had a hamburger on the way home," I commented, watching him put away large forkfuls of the pasta.

"I'm always hungry," he laughed.

I shook my head. "Only you could eat that much and not weigh 500 pounds. We should all be so lucky." I put my hand on my stomach. "I feel like a cow with all this pregnancy weight. My doctor told me I had to watch what I eat."

"Your doctor is crazy," he said. "You were beautiful to begin with but pregnancy really suits you. You look perfect."

I was about to protest, but Eli shook his head. "Take the compliment, Clare."

"Thank you," I said softly. I was about to change the subject to a less uncomfortable topic when I felt a soft kick from inside my stomach. "Oh," I said in surprise. "The baby kicked."

Eli smiled softly. "Is she kicking because she's happy…or upset?"

I kept my hand there waiting for it to happen again, but I didn't feel anything more. "I don't know." I smiled back at him. "I guess we'll have to ask her."

"Is there anything else you want to put in the agreement?" Eli asked, his voice soft and tender, and I wondered if he was trying to keep us talking so I wouldn't leave.

"I can't think of anything," I said. It was the truth, but part of me also wondered how he'd react.

"Okay," he said evenly. "Then I'll send these notes to the lawyer and he'll put in all the legalese garbage and he'll send us a copy to sign. And if you have any changes or anything that's fine."

"Sure." I shifted a little in my seat. Like usual, my bladder felt like it was about to burst. "Can you point me in the direction of the washroom?"

"Down the hall," he said absently, clearly involved in the email he was sending.

I walked past an open door that revealed Eli's office. But there were three other doors in the hallway and all of them were closed. I didn't want to be nosy but I was curious, so rather than going back and asking Eli for clarification, I cracked open the furthest door.

I stared gobsmacked at the small room that was nearly filled floor to ceiling with stuff. If anything, it was worse than Eli's room had been at his parents' house back when we first started dating. It was clear that Eli kept the rest of his condo neat by cramming every last item into this room. Old paperbacks and CDs were strewn across the tops of boxes filled with God knew what. There was a large stack of newspapers right inside the door and I was relieved to see they were issues of the Toronto Star. Eli had known a lot about my career considering how long it had been since we'd broken up and if it had been a stack of my own paper, I would have found that rather creepy.

I tried to close the door quietly, but as I turned around, I saw Eli behind me, looking completely deflated. "None of the doors were open," I explained.

"That one's the washroom," he said pointing to the door across the hall and leaving me where I was standing.

I knew we had to talk about this, but I also really had to pee. Inside the washroom, I noticed that the adjoining door to Eli's bedroom was open, and I closed it quickly, not wanting him to think I was completely spying on his place. His room was painted a dark gray, and although there were a few posters decorating it, they were all displayed in formal frames. It felt very much like Eli – well…the adult version of Eli that I was coming to know.

After I used the facility and washed my hands, I tiptoed back out. Eli was sitting on the couch, using the remote to change the channels on the TV. My coat was lying on the couch next to him and I knew he was going to try to get me out of here as quickly as possible to avoid talking about this.

"I have some grading to do," he said.

I gingerly took a seat on an armchair that was close enough to him that I could reach out and touch him. "Eli," I said gently.

He shook his head. "Don't."

"It's nothing to be ashamed about. Look at my apartment. I don't have a hoarding compulsion and my place is full of stuff I don't need." I tried to lighten the conversation. "At least you can contain your mess to one room."

"I was doing so much better for a long time," he said, unable to meet my eyes. "You remember."

I did remember. We had made a lot of progress working on his room together – progress that I was a bit surprised had continued after we had broken up. Eli had admitted to me later that sometimes in his manic states he would get such an adrenaline rush that he'd be able to throw things out without the usual intense struggle he went through, so I guess that explained it.

I recalled our earlier conversation. "You asked me to move in to your spare room before…were you really planning on cleaning that out so I could live her?"

He nodded, blinking a little and I could tell he was holding back a few tears.

"You're a good man, Eli Goldsworthy," I said, leaning down and pressing a platonic kiss on his cheek. I tucked my jacket over my arm and grabbed my work bag. "I'll keep you posted on any baby related developments."

"Would you like me to walk you out?" he asked. I could tell he was just being polite and that he was still shaken up.

"I'm right across the street, so I'm okay. Thanks for the spaghetti. Oof," I said, grabbing my belly where the baby's foot had just connected. "That was a hard kick." I smiled. "Maybe she was trying to say goodbye to Daddy."

Eli grinned. "19 weeks left. Then she can say it for real."

"You realize that newborns can't talk, right?" I joked.

"Goodnight, Clare," Eli said, although I could tell he was starting to feel a little lighter.

"Goodnight, Eli," I said, chuckling as I walked out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Degrassi or anything else.**

**Repeating this from the author note for the second chapter of 10 Dates in case you missed it (and you should go read that too):**

**_I know my updates sometimes take a long time, and as much as I wish that wasn't the case, that's probably how things are going to be more often than not. I promise you that any delay is due to a lack of time and not a lack of interest. I'd really like to thank you all for sticking with me. When I started writing fanfiction, I promised I would never start a story I couldn't finish, and I hope you know that I'm not going to disappear on you. I still love Eclare with all of my heart and I won't stop writing until I have no more stories in me. And I can't tell you how much it means you me that you keep reading them._**

**Not the best chapter but necessary to the plot. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 16

"**And what it all comes down to is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet." Hand in My Pocket by Alanis Morissette**

"I didn't realize there were so many ways to kill a baby," Eli mumbled just loud enough for me to hear him.

I shot him a dirty look and turned my attention back to the instructor who was going over SIDS prevention techniques. I had already read about many of the tips in the baby books I had read – put the baby to sleep on her back, don't put any loose blankets or toys in the crib, don't use crib bumpers – but I was dutifully adding what she mentioned to my baby tip notebook.

Eli, on the other hand, hadn't written down anything though he at least had the printout of the PowerPoint presentation open to the correct page.

We had already gone over what types of baby items we needed to purchase and which were overhyped and not useful, and a pediatrician had come to talk to us about common infant ailments and when things were actually an emergency. I kept glancing at the clock, hoping the nurse who was leading the class would announce that it was time for a break, but when she segued into information on feeding the baby, I knew it would be a while. As quietly as I could, I snuck out and hurried toward the washroom.

It seemed like I constantly had to pee now that I was in my 28th week of pregnancy. It had gotten to the point where I had to drive to work because any major delay on the TTC could mean disaster. I wished I didn't have to leave the class before the break but I hoped that the material she was going over had been covered more thoroughly in the breastfeeding class I had taken three weeks ago.

I hadn't thought to invite Eli to the breastfeeding class; after all, he didn't exactly have the right equipment for it. But I arrived to discover that every woman had brought her partner along with her. There was one lesbian couple who both came even though only the biological mother would be lactating, and one single mother had brought along her sister for moral support.

I was the only person who was alone.

I had definitely learned from that mistake and asked Eli to join me for the infant care class. Things had been better between us since we'd sat down to discuss custody arrangements and we'd both signed off on the formal agreement two weeks prior. This was the first time I had seen him in person since I'd gone to his condo to hammer out the details, but we'd been emailing and texting and had even exchanged a few pleasant phone calls. I'd been giving him updates on my doctor's appointments which were happening more frequently now. He'd been pestering me to take some time off work before the baby came, considering how tired I was getting, but I still hadn't made a decision of when my last day would be.

When I arrived at the classroom there were a lot of conversations going on at once and the instructor passed me on her way out of the room, so it seemed the break had started. She was leading a parade of pregnant women and it seemed everyone else needed a bathroom break as well. I was glad I snuck out a few minutes ahead of time and beat the rush. At the start of the class, I had looked around and seen that I had the largest belly in the class and we introduced ourselves it turned out that I was the closest to my due date with just three months left to go.

"You missed a lot," Eli said dramatically as I sat down next to him. "Did you know that bottles and nipples have to be boiled before you can use them or else the baby will die?"

"We don't have to worry about that because I'm breastfeeding," I said, ignoring his tone. I rifled through my backpack until I found a folder I had stashed before leaving. "Here." I passed the folder to Eli. "I've been reading a lot of parenting books and taking notes so I thought I'd make a copy for you."

He raised an eyebrow at the large stack of sheets, each with bold headings, page numbers, and bulleted highlights. Flipping to the back, he laughed as he discovered the index I had painstakingly created.

"The sections with the question marks in front of them are because different sources had different recommendations. I italicized the ones that I think we should stick to but I'm open to negotiation on those," I continued.

"There are footnotes in here," he said, a smirk beginning to form on his face.

"Well I wanted to be able to go back to the original sources, just in case." I flipped to the works consulted list. "I starred the ones that you should read in their entirety. There are a few others that are worth it for the chapters noted."

"Will you let me know the date of the final exam so I can study ahead of time? And will the format be written or oral? Essays or multiple choice?" Eli joked.

I glared at him. "The final exam is when this baby shows up and you need to start taking care of her."

His smirk only dropped slightly. "Relax, Clare. I'm more than prepared. I've even read a couple of these books." He flipped through the pages once more and the smile spread once again. "I did not take color-coded notes though, so thank you for that."

"You're welcome," I said dryly. I turned back to the front of the room where the instructor was speaking with the two women who had asked the most questions during the class. It didn't seem like she'd be starting up the class anytime soon. I glanced at Eli who still had that smug expression. "What?"

He shook his head. "I was just thinking about how wrong I was."

"About?" I wasn't in the mood for guessing games.

Eli shifted a little in his seat before answering. "The day we…reconnected…I kept thinking that you were so different from how you were when we were in high school. But the more time I've spent with you since then, I'm realizing that you haven't really changed at all."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm still a really good note-taker. The whole journalism degree and career only made me better at it."

He laughed. "Yeah, that and you still get ridiculously obsessed with things."

"Excuse me?"

"30 pages of footnoted baby raising facts?"

"I don't have a lot of experience with babies," I protested. "And I don't want to screw this up."

"So you read a book and take a class." Eli gestured around us. "You don't write a doctoral thesis on it."

"Okay fine, I may have gone a bit overboard, but I just wanted to be thorough. That doesn't mean I'm always obsessed with things."

"Mmmhmm," Eli teased.

"I'm not!" I was grateful that the room had started to fill back up because the din of the crowd prevented them from overhearing this very childish argument. But Eli had always known how to egg me on, and I wasn't going to back down.

"Let's see…when we first met, you were obsessed with your parents' divorce."

"I wasn't obsessed; I was upset! There's a difference."

"There was that one creative writing assignment that you worked on for two weeks straight. You wouldn't even go out for dinner with me."

"I'm sorry that caring about my schoolwork is such a horrible character trait."

Eli smirked. "And there was that one horrible period when your whole life revolved around one Jake Martin."

I cringed. "Don't remind me." I couldn't even deny that he was right about that. For a few months after Eli had crashed Morty and I had ended our relationship, I did hang out with Jake to the exclusion of my friendships, schoolwork…pretty much everything except my job on the paper. I had wanted to prove I was over Eli by throwing myself into another relationship, no matter how foolish it was in retrospect. Not to mention gross, since I'd accepted Jake as a stepbrother not too long afterward.

"Your internship at the Interpreter," he continued, though his voice softened as he added, "Before that went south."

"It was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime," I said sadly and Eli touched my shoulder in support.

"And then, of course, there was the time you were obsessed with me."

I could tell Eli was just trying to lighten the mood, but his statement only served to enrage me. "I was _not_ obsessed with you."

"You can deny it all you want, Edwards. But you were completely obsessed."

"Right…because I had so much time to be obsessed with you between my parents' divorce and my schoolwork, and my internship…"

"You had time to spend three hours a day at the Toronto Public Library while I shelved books," he said pointedly.

"I like reading," I protested. "And all the books I read that summer helped tremendously when I interviewed for my job. Not many journalism grads know their way around the young adult department."

He was right though, that I had spent a lot of time with him the summer before he left for university. I'd known that being apart would be difficult and I'd wanted to make every minute count – even if it meant waiting around for him to have a break at work.

"You could have gotten a job there but nooo, you just wanted to sit around and wait for me because you were so obsessed," Eli teased.

I wouldn't meet his eyes. I couldn't admit that the reason I didn't apply for the open page position that I would have been a shoe-in for based on Eli's recommendation was that I was afraid they'd make us work different shifts and it would mean less time that we could spend together.

I didn't want to admit he was right.

I didn't have to come up with another excuse because a person standing in front of us cleared their throat, and we looked up to find the instructor with her hand on a plastic baby. "I don't mean to interrupt," she said dryly. "But I put this baby on your table nearly five minutes ago, and neither of you have even noticed. If this were a real baby, it could have rolled off and broken its neck."

I glanced around to notice all the other couples holding the dolls in their arms. I was too chagrined at her chastisement to respond and I was glad when Eli did. "If you were so concerned about the baby's safety, maybe you shouldn't have put it on the table in the first place."

Her only response was a glare before she moved back to the front of the room to continue the lesson.

I wasn't sure if it was the humiliation from the instructor's insinuation that Eli and I would be terrible parents or just Eli's insistence on bringing up painful memories from the past and teasing me about them, but I was completely thrown off for the rest of the class. I couldn't figure out how to wrap the blanket in a swaddle; though it seemed like I was following the instructor's directions, she claimed it wasn't tight enough and the baby would be able to break free. My burping technique was too timid, and I was so nervous that I sent both the infant bathtub and the baby careening off the table. I managed the diaper just fine, but I had trouble getting the unyielding doll into a pair of baby pajamas while supporting her neck. Eli tried to be encouraging but his quick ability to do the things I couldn't made me even more frustrated and responded to every word he said with a sharp retort that made him finally stop trying to make me feel better.

After the class, we walked back to Eli's car in silence, the excited conversations of the other couples ringing in my ears. Eli opened the passenger door for me, but I put a hand on the car frame, steadying myself as I breathed deeply, winded from the walk and the deeply exhausting class.

"Clare?" Eli asked gently. "Are you okay? Is it the baby?"

"I'm fine," I said dismissively, but one look in Eli's eyes made me realize he wasn't going to give up. "I just hate that whenever I feel like I'm making progress, things go wrong and it brings me right back to feeling like I have no idea what I'm doing." I tried to keep my tone even, but a sob escaped and tears started streaming down my face. Eli stepped forward and took me into his arms.

It was humiliating, crying like this in front of Eli, and I couldn't help but remember the last time I had wept on his shoulder in the middle of a parking lot.

I had taken him home and slept with him. And even if it was impossible to wind up pregnant this time, I wasn't going to let that happen again.

I pulled back but Eli kept his hands loosely on my shoulders. "Clare you know what you're doing. That teacher was a bitch and you probably could have taught the class yourself based on all of your research."

"Right…that's why I messed up the entire practical part of the class."

"Dolls aren't babies," Eli said. "If they were, five year olds would make the best mothers."

His words were so unexpected that I snorted with laughter. He grinned for a moment but the moment of levity was short-lived.

"I'm sorry I teased you about your obsessions. I think it's amazing that when you care about something you dedicate yourself to it completely," Eli said, his voice filled with admiration. "I wish I had your courage."

I shook my head. "If anything, it's just completely foolish." He raised an eyebrow and I continued. I counted off on my fingers. "My parents got divorced, I lost my internship, and every romantic relationship I've ever had about has ended horribly. It's just a reminder that whenever I care about something I end up failing." I laughed wryly. "I even got a B+ on that creative writing assignment."

"A B+ is hardly a failure. And I'd hope you're not still disappointed that things didn't work out between you and Jakey-boy."

I closed my eyes. "Can you just take me home?"

"You shouldn't be alone when you're feeling like this."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "I'm just exhausted and hormonal and tired of being used as a human soccer ball by baby Pele in here."

"She's kicking?"

Eli sounded curious and also hopeful, and without thinking twice I took his hand and placed it right on my stomach where the baby's feet seemed to be permanently lodged. "I don't feel anything," he said wistfully.

"Maybe she doesn't like you," I teased.

He smiled. "Wouldn't it be more likely that she does like me and doesn't want to hurt me?"

Before I could retort, the baby kicked so strongly there was no way Eli didn't feel it. "Oh my God," he said softly. "That's our baby."

He looked right into my eyes and we were standing so close and for a moment, I wondered if he was going to kiss me. But he withdrew his hand and just gave me a soft smile. "It's not too late. We should go to the Dot and get milkshakes or something."

I gave him a skeptical look. "We'll be the oldest people there by about a decade."

"Dutch Dreams, then? I'm really confused about this whole Ferber thing and I was hoping you could explain it to me."

I grinned and finally took my place in the front seat. "Well we don't have to worry about that for at least the first three months because you can't sleep train a newborn, but there are a few schools of thought."

Eli closed the door behind me and grinned at me through the window. "I'm all ears."


End file.
